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MAROON    TALES 


MAROON  TALES 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CHICAGO  STORIES 


By 

Will  J.  Cuppy 


CHICAGO 

FORBES    &    COMPANY 

1910 


Copyright,  1909,  by 
Forbes  &  Company 


?S$505 


To 
L.  A.  V.  P. 


3739 


CONTENTS 


Page 

The  Extra  Major 7 

The  Wisdom  of  Hawkins      -  61' 

Some  Odes  and  Some  Episodes  -       -  95 

The  Indiscretions  of  Yvonne  de 

la  Plaisance 135 

Big  Boys  and  Little  Boys       -       -       -  181 

Including  the  Doctorate         -  215 

The  Great  Paste-pot  Handicap    -       -  267 

Honors  in  Diplomacy      -  311 


MAROON   TALES 


THE  EXTRA  MAJ 

^pHE  Quarterly  Announcement  dre  exceed- 
-*■  ingly  useful.  They  are  gooC  to  wrap  sand- 
wiches and  things  in,  «and  to  fan  with  in  class ; 
also,  they  enable  the  sopbofiores  to  tell  whether 
the  '  *  jf6ips ' '  come  at^ivenient  periods.  Some 
freshmen  read  them  through  to  the  last  foot- 
note— no  one  else  ever  does — under  the  impres- 
sion that  they  may  take  their  choice  of  the 
courses, 'or  perhaps  ifc^tne  belief  that  the  big 
w-hite  folders  are  the  veritable  catalogues  of 
their  own  accomplishments  four  years  later. 
Both  conceptions  are  interesting. 

But  the  freshmen  need  no  warning  against 
dangerous  mental  exertion.  Only  a  few  of 
them — those  with  abnormally  developed  fore- 
heads— injure  their  health  in  that  way.  The 
rest  are  busy  scurrying  about  the  campus  for 
the  valuable  something  or  other  they  think  they 
are  going  to  find.  The  something  or  -other 
usually  finds  them;  often  on  thejffrsi  day;  and 


MAROON  TALES 

occasionally  when  it  seems  almost  too  late. 
You  may  call  it  College  Spirit,  or  merely  an 
Idea.    It  is  not  in  the  Announcements. 

Phil  Jennings,  who  used  to  insist  upon  mak- 
ing observations  like  these,  modestly  admitted 
that  he  had  evolved  them  out  of  the  ad- 
ventures of  nis  freshman  year.  When  he 
threatened  to  go  into  details,  his  friends  would 
groan  cheerfully  and  tell  him  that  the  same  old 
things  happened  tdr  about  a  thousand  others. 
But  that,  as  Phil  would  solemnly  remark,  was 
precisely  the  point. 

Philip  Howard  Jennings,  Jr.,  had  no  special 
convictions  on  the  significance  of  the  col- 
legiate experience  when  he  came  to  Chicago. 
He  just  hoped  he  would  get  a  great  deal  out 
of  the  University,  as  his  father  had  advised. 
This  was  rather  fortunate,  since  opinionated 
freshmen  are  both  unhappy  and  annoying ;  they 
suffer  more  or  less  when  their  notions  sicken 
and  die,  and  they  worry  the  sophomores,  who 
do  not  learn  to  smile  at  all  human  frailties 

,  until  farther  filong  in  the  year. 

"•*  Philip  "Hcfward  Jennings,  Jr.,  was  eighteen 
/:  Jearjs  tjf.  a$e.a,nd:f  airly  good-looking,  and  he  was 

8 


THE    EXTRA   MAJOR 

usually  hungry.     He.had  a  good  head,  which 
contained  a  healthy  freshman  brain. 

The  boy  began  by  registering  for  three 
majors — a  major,  he  learned,  was  the  unit  of 
work,  and  he  would  get  nine  each  year.  In 
the  dean's  office,  he  conferred  with ,  the  small 
freshman  next  in  line  about  the  advisability  of 
taking  one  or  two  Sociology  courses,  while  the 
fellow  in  front  was  trying  the  official  soul  with 
original  suggestions  concerning  his  schedule. 
The  small  freshman,  who  winked  confidentially 
and  bobbed  his  head  at  each  whispered  com- 
munication, said  he  knew  which  were  the 
"snap"  classes.  A  fellow  out  under  the  clock 
had  told  him.  But  Phil  asked  no  questions 
when  he  was  instructed  to  take  English  1, 
German  1  and  History  1;  therefore  the  dean 
smiled  kindly  upon  him — about  fifty  other 
freshmen  were  waiting  to  be  ministered  to.  The 
dean  shook  hands  quite  cordially  when  he  no- 
ticed the  name  at  the  top  of  the  registration 
slip,  and  said  he  knew  Phil  Jennings  and  was 
glad  to  meet  his  son.  That  made  up  for  the 
Sociology  courses.  Many  a  freshman  would 
have  liked  to  know  Dean  Jackson  and  shake 
hands  with  him  that  way. 


MAROON    TALES 

When  Phil  had  paid  his  tuition,  he  felt  that 
at  last  he  was  a  part  of  the  University.  And 
he  liked  the  feeling.  He  liked  the  great,  gray, 
English  Gothic  buildings,  with  their  steep,  red 
roofs  and  their  plain,  strong  outlines,  and  he 
liked  what  he  saw  through  the  windows.  Most 
of  all,  he  liked  the  looks  of  the  fellows  all  about 
him.  He  liked  everything  and  everybody  on 
the  campus,  with  the  single  exception  of  Freddy 
Ball,  whom  he  detested.  As  Freddy  was  his 
roommate,  he  could  not  ignore  the  obtrusive 
fact  that  he  existed. 

A  singularly  painful  dispensation  of  Provi- 
dence had  condemned  Phil  and  Freddy  to 
unpleasant  companionship.  It  was  their  mis- 
fortune to  be  cousins,  and  both  were  heartily 
ashamed  of  it.  Their  mothers,  the  most  loving 
of  sisters,  would  have  been  terribly  shocked 
had  they  known  of  the  unnatural  animosity 
harbored  by  their  sons.  For  that  reason 
alone  the  boys  had  refrained  from  damaging 
each  other's  faces,  and  always  exchangee 
Christmas  and  birthday  gifts,  accompanied  ty 
excessive  written  expressions  of  regard,  whicl 
were  meant  to  be  withering. 

A  little  girl  with  irresistible  pigtails  and  ai 

10 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 

entrancing  giggle  had  started  the  trouble.  This 
charming  young  person  moved  away  and  was 
forgotten,  but  the  cousinly  warfare  continued. 
Freddy  told  his  friends  that  he  could  stand 
Phil  Jennings  if  he  were  not  such  a  tin  saint  on 
top  of  his  meanness,  and  Phil  thought  he  might 
be  able  to  endure  Freddy  if  he  weren't  such  a 
loud-mouthed  little  insect.  And  now  Mrs.  Jen- 
nings and  Mrs.  Ball  had  conceived  the  uncanny 
plan  of  making  college  chums  of  their  sons, 
explaining  with  simple  foresight  that  the  boys 
could  not  possibly  become  lonesome  under  such 
an  arrangement.  They  had  taken  the  trouble  to 
insure  the  joint  occupancy  of  the  very  room 
where  the  sweet  communion  was  to  thrive. 

Phil  was  not  the  kind  that  turns  the  other 
cheek,  but  he  imagined,  as  he  drank  in  all  the 
new  mysteries  of  that  first  morning,  that  even 
Freddy  might  improve  in  the  inspiring  sur- 
roundings. He  felt  that  he  would  even  be  will- 
ing to  forgive  him  a  few  things.  After  a  hasty 
luncheon  at  the  Commons,  where  he  wondered 
about  the  portraits,  and  at  the  size  of  the  crowd, 
he  found  Freddy  in  the  room  in  Hitchcock, 
tacking  pictures  into  the  wall,  against  the  com- 
bined regulations  of  the  Department  of  Build- 

11 


MAROON   TALES 

ings  and  Grounds  and  the  Head  of  the  House. 

"I  'm  certainly  glad  I  came,  Fred,"  he  be- 
gan, out  of  the  fulness  of  his  heart.  "Just 
see  those  buildings.  And  the  dean — Dean 
Jackson — knows  father.  I  remember  now  that 
father  said " 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  cut  out  your  father  for 
a  minute,"  sputtered  Freddy,  who  was  quite 
warm  and  excited  because  the  wall  kept  chip- 
ping off  and  because  he  had  nearly  swallowed 
a  tack  a  moment  before.  "Try  to  forget  that 
you  're  related  to  your  father.  Your  father  's 
in  Kansas  and  you  're  here.    You " 

Freddy  stopped  suddenly  and  said  "Damn!' 
very  incisively,  when  the  hammer  slipped  and 
struck  his  chubby  forefinger.    Phil  scorned  to 
reply  or  even  to  laugh  at  the  accident,  but 
dragged  his  trunk  to  the  center  of  the  floo 
and  set  to  work. 

It  took  an  hour  to  decorate  the  room.  Whe 
it  was  finished,  John  came  in  with  some  line 
and  said,  "You  all 's  freshmans,  ain't  yoT 
and  then  departed  with  a  knowing  smile  o 
his  black  face.  For  the  decorations  were  dis 
tinctive ;  a  senior  could  have  drawn  conclusion 
even  more  comprehensive  than  the  janitor's 

12 


. 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 

Freddy  had  chosen  the  wall  opposite  the  door 
with  an  eye  to  the  possibilities  of  the  broad 
mantelpiece,  which  he  had  embellished  with  a 
collection  of  miscellaneous  objects,  including  a 
copper  chafing-dish,  a  pottery  tobacco-jar,  a 
nickel  alarm-clock,  a  small  cloisonne  vase,  a 
glaring  red  poster  of  the  Evil  One  surrounded 
by  a  group  of  sophisticated  young  women,  and 
a  print  of  the  "Mona  Lisa."  Above  this  exhi- 
bition he  hung  a  tennis  net  trimmed  with  an 
armful  of  souvenir  dance  programs.  Along  the 
molding  he  strung  a  line  of  actresses'  photo- 
graphs, clipped  from  a  theatrical  magazine. 
He  filled  the  vacant  spaces  with  cartoons  that 
had  been  reproduced  in  the  annual  of  the  acade- 
my he  had  attended  the  year  before. 

Phil  gave  the  place  of  honor  in  the  center  of 
his  wall  to  the  framed  photographs  of  his 
father  and  mother.  The  high  school  graduat- 
ing class,  each  proud  member  sternly  display- 
ing the  self-consciousness  characteristic  of 
this  pinnacle  of  educational  achievement,  occu- 
pied an  important  position  directly  under  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Jennings.  The  picture  of  a  girls' 
club  and  a  dozen  sepia  prints  of  familiar  mas- 
terpieces, done  in  passe-partout  by  Mrs.  Jen- 

13 


MAEOON   TALES 

nings,  completed  the  impression.  Freddy 
sniffed  at  the  result  when  he  had  finished  a 
pleased  survey  of  his  own  riotous  handiwork, 
and  asked  his  cousin  if  he  did  not  fear  he  had 
overdone  the  thing.  Then  he  followed  John 
downstairs.    He  had  not  improved. 

A  freshman  needs  a  long  time  to  empty  his 
trunk,  if  he  is  an  orderly  person  and  wants  to 
find  nooks  and  corners  for  the  disposal  of  the 
bushels  of  perfectly  useless  things  he  has 
brought  with  him.  If  not,  he  pitches  the 
heap  of  left-overs  into  his  closet — Freddy' 
closet  already  contained  a  heterogeneous  mass 
Phil  had  just  discovered  a  top  shelf  for  his  su- 
perfluous shoes  and  hats  when  the  postman 
brought  him  a  letter  from  his  father,  with  a 
note  from  his  mother  enclosed.  He  read  the 
both  without  smiling.  There  was  nothing  t 
smile  about. 

"It  is  strange  that  this  offer  should  hav 
come  so  soon  after  you  left,"  his  father' 
letter  concluded.  ' '  I  forgot  to  say  that  Haider 
man's  secretary  rushed  down  to  the  statio 
to  see  you,  but  missed  the  train.  As  you  ha 
decided  some  time  ago  to  take  up  this  work 
you  could  get  it,  I  wished  to  notify  you  at  one 

14 


e 

: 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 

Of  course,  you  know  I  am  not  thinking  of  the 
financial  side  of  it,  but  I  believe  it  would  do 
you  more  good  than  college.  You  know  the  op- 
portunities with  Halderman  are  very  excep- 
tional. It's  a  capital  beginning  for  a  young 
man.   However,  you  are  to  decide  for  yourself.  ' ' 

His  mother's  note  was  quite  unlike  her 
ordinarily  calm  and  gentle  letters.  It  concerned 
Freddy.  Freddy's  mother  had  been  weeping 
about  her  boy  ever  since  he  left.  She  had  con- 
fessed, hysterically,  that  he  was  not  what  he 
seemed  to  be — in  fact,  he  was  inclined  to  be 
wild  and  reckless.  He  smoked  cigarettes  and 
said  strange  things  in  his  sleep.  He  had  come 
home  one  night  in  a  very  queer  condition.  His 
mother  feared  it  was  beer. 

"Phil,  dear,"  Mrs.  Jennings  wrote,  "do 
something  to  stop  him  before  it  is  too  late.  We 
know  your  influence  over  him.  Be  with  him  as 
much  as  possible.  Remember,  Phil,  it  will  be 
worth  while." 

Phil  seriously  doubted  this  last  assertion,  and 
also  the  necessity  for  missionary  work.  But 
anyhow,  he  decided,  he  would  observe  Freddy 
more  closely,  and  if  he  had  been  going  it  too 
fast,  he  might  do  something  about  it. 

15 


MAEOON  TALES 

His  father's  letter  had  sent  unhappy  thrills 
over  his  freshman  being.  It  was  not  pleasant  to 
get  that  kind  of  advice  on  his  first  day  at  col- 
lege, even  though  he  knew  his  father  would  not 
insist  upon  his  accepting  the  offer  from  Haider- 
man.  Phil  threw  the  letters  into  the  drawer 
of  his  study-table.  Just  now  he  wanted  to  ex- 
plore the  campus. 

He  wanted  to  get  the  lay  of  the  wide  network 
of  cement  walks  and  find  out  for  himself  where 
his  classes  would  be  held.  He  could  remember 
easily  enough  on  which  floors  of  Cobb  his 
courses  would  come,  but  he  had  no  idea  what 
the  rooms  would  look  like.  And  he  had  been 
told  that  there  were  a  lot  of  museums  in  which 
you  could  stroll  around  for  hours  without  be- 
ginning to  exhaust  their  mysteries.  Those 
queer  stone  benches  by  the  walks  had  looked 
interesting,  too. 

As  he  was  very  innocent,  he  did  not  know 
that  it  is  contrary  to  the  rules  of  sociability 
for  a  good-looking  freshman  to  wander  alone 
about  the  campus  on  opening  day.  He  was  just 
sauntering  slowly  away  from  Hitchcock  when 
three  youths,  approaching  arm  in  arm,  hailed 
him. 

16 


THE    EXTRA   MAJOR 

"You  are  Jennings,  aren't  you?"  asked  one 
of  them,  whom  Phil  recognized  as  the  fellow 
that  had  come  into  the  registration  room  in  the 
morning,  apparently  searching  for  some  one. 
He  seemed  so  sure  of  his  man  that  he  did  not 
wait  for  Phil's  answer. 

"I  heard  you  were  here — heard  it  from  Dean 
Jackson,"  he  explained;  "and  I  looked  up  your 
room  number.  No,  thanks,  we  can't  go  up,"  as 
Phil  turned  and  was  about  to  invite  them  in. 
"My  name  is  Taylor,  and  I  want  you  to  meet 
Wallace  and  Norton  here.  Hope  we  're  not 
keeping  you  from  an  engagement." 

"No,  I  was  not  going  any  place  in  particu- 
lar.   Glad  you  came,"  Phil  answered. 

"Certainly,  we  're  not  detaining  you," 
agreed  the  one  introduced  as  Wallace,  gravely 
smoothing  his  red  hair.  "We  're  just  holding 
you  up.  You  can't  get  away  when  you  're  sur- 
rounded on  three  sides,  like  an  archipelago, 
can  you?" 

"An  archipelago  is  not  surrounded  on  three 
sides,  Red,"  said  Norton,  the  stocky,  earnest- 
faced  fellow.  ' '  That  's  an  isthmus  or  a  plateau 
or  something." 

"Some  day  the  i profs'  are  going  to  get  on  to 

17 


MAROON  TALES 

those  fellows,' '  laughed  Taylor.  "They  ought 
to  take  a  tonic  for  their  minds,  if  they  have  any 
such  organs/ ' 

"The  mind  is  not  an  organ,  Albert.  Is  it, 
Jennings ?"   appealed  the  red-headed  one. 

Phil  admitted  his  ignorance  of  the  point  in 
question.  He  thought  it  strange  that  he  should 
be  discussing  geographical  and  physiological 
problems  with  three  young  men  that  he  had 
never  seen  until  a  moment  before. 

"Can  you  dine  with  us  at  the  Eho 
house  this  evening,  Jennings  f"  asked  Taylor. 
"I  hope  you  can." 

"I  '11  drop  in  at  your  room  and  pick  you  up," 
Wallace  volunteered. 

"Thanks,  I  '11  come,  and  I  '11  find  it  all 
right  myself,"  Phil  said.  "Don't  bother  to 
call  for  me." 

Taylor  wrote  the  address  of  the  Rho  house 
on  a  card,  and  the  three  fellows  shook  hands 
with  Phil  and  rushed  into  Snell  Hall. 

Halfway  to  Cobb,  Phil  met  Freddy,  skip- 
ping joyously  along  toward  the  room  with  a 
stubby-bodied,  red-cheeked  little  fellow,  who 
seemed  to  be  telling  a  remarkable  experience 

18 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 

of  some  sort.  Freddy  was  slapping  him  on  the 
back  and  screaming  appreciation. 

"Phil,  shake  hands  with  Mr.  Blythe.  Blythe, 
this  is  Jennings,  my  cousin,"  Freddy  said  as 
they  came  up,  in  the  courteous  tone  he  always 
employed  when  he  felt  superior.  "You  Ve 
heard  me  speak  of  Tommy  Blythe  that  I 
prepped  with?    Well,  this  is  Blythe. ' * 

This  proud  identification  of  the  stubby  boy 
seemed  to  please  him  quite  as  thoroughly  as 
it  did  Freddy.  He  chuckled  delightedly  and 
admitted  that  he  was  indeed  the  very  fellow, 
but  he  hoped  Ball  had  not  told  all  there  was 
to  tell.  He  frowned  darkly  and  shook  his  head 
at  the  mere  recollection  of  these  awful  deeds. 
Evidently  he  regarded  himself  as  a  dangerous 
man.  But  his  eyes  were  so  round  and  blue,  and 
his  other  features  so  fair  and  guileless  that 
Phil  was  not  much  affected  by  his  efforts  to  cre- 
ate the  illusion  of  horrid  debauchery,  even 
when  he  lighted  a  long,  gold-tipped  cigarette 
and  puffed  at  it  savagely.  The  gorgeousness 
of  Tommy  *s  raiment,  too,  was  merely  youth- 
ful; a  real  desperado  would  have  wept  at  the 
buckles  on  the  shoes  and  the  cut  of  the  trousers. 
Phil  noticed  a  small  button  in  the  left  lapel 

19 


MAEOON  TALES 

of  his  coat.  Freddy  was  making  signs  for  him 
just  to  look  at  it. 

"  Tommy  wants  ns  to  go  over  to  the  Phi 
Tau  house  to  dinner  tonight/ '  Freddy  an- 
nounced, accenting  the  Greek  letters  broadly. 
1 '  Tommy  is  a  Phi  Tau  pledge.  I  accepted  for 
you,  of  course.  I  '11  see  you  at  the  room  at  six 
o'clock.'' 

"The  Ehos — too  bad,  too  bad,"  lamented 
Tommy,  when  Phil  told  him  of  his  previous 
appointment.  "Because  you'd  have  had  a  good 
time  at  our  house.  I'm  afraid  the  Rhos  are 
slow."  It  was  fortunate  for  Tommy  Blythe  that 
his  Phi  Tau  seniors  did  not  hear  this;  they 
might  have  disciplined  him. 

"Well,  come  to  lunch  tomorrow  then,  Jen- 
nings," he  added  affably.  "All  right,  Jen- 
nings.   See  you  tomorrow,  Jennings." 

Phil  looked  back  over  his  shoulder  and  saw 
the  two  of  them  skipping  along  past  Snell  and 
punching  each  other's  ribs  in  the  joy  of  their 
reunion.  He  was  glad  Freddy  had  found  a 
mate ;  later  he  was  not  certain  about  that.  He 
walked  on,  stopping  occasionally  to  take  in  the 
sweep  of  the  campus  and  the  different  views  of 
the   buildings.    When   he   reached    Cobb,   he 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 

thought  he  would  see  how  it  felt  to  sit  on  the 
attractive  stone  bench  in  front  of  the  en- 
trance. Several  fellows  were  lounging  on  it, 
chatting  familiarly.  Phil  sat  down  on  the  edge, 
next  the  walk.  No  one  had  told  him  that  he 
must  not  do  this. 

The  nearest  fellow,  who  had  been  watching 
the  freshman,  slouched  forward. 

"I  beg  a  thousand  pardons,  young  man,  but 
I  can't  recall  your  face,  though  I  may  have 
heard  the  name,"  he  said.  "Let  me  see.  Smith, 
perhaps  ?" 

The  stranger  was  very  insolent,  Phil  thought, 
but  he  gave  his  last  name. 

"Oh,  it  's  Jennings,  is  it?"  the  tall  one  ejac- 
lated.  "He  says  his  name  is  Jennings,"  he  an- 
nounced to  the  others.  "Willy  Jennings,  I 
suppose?     No?    Philip — how  careless." 

He  turned  again  and  loudly  informed  the 
rest  of  the  group  that  they  were  mistaken  if 
they  imagined  the  freshman's  name  was  Willy, 
because  it  was  Philly — Philly  Jennings  or 
Jenny  Phillips,  as  they  preferred. 

"Didn't  the  people  in  your  town  ever  hear 
of  the  <C  Bench,  Philly?"  the  fellow  sadly  in- 
quired.    "No?     Well,  the  people  on  the  'C 

21 


MAROON   TALES 

Bench  never  heard  of  your  town,  either,  so 
there  you  are." 

Phil  flushed.  He  could  feel  a  hot  streak 
across  the  back  of  his  neck.  He  resented  the 
attack,  but  he  knew  it  was  because  he  was  a 
freshman,  and  he  thought  he  should  not  be 
"fresh."  The  other  fellows  had  not  laughed. 
They  looked  rather  bored  and  they  told  the 
bully  about  it. 

"Dry  up,  you  Blacky!"  and  "Oh,  how 
funny,"  and  "Sass  him  back,  freshman,"  they 
called,  and  then  resumed  their  conversation 
as  if  nothing  had  happened.  One  of  them, 
who  had  started  to  leave,  came  up  and  said, 
"Freshmen  are  not  allowed  to  sit  on  this  bench, 
that 's  all."  And  when  Phil  slid  off  the  seat 
and  started  away,  the  fellow  caught  up  with 
him. 

"Blacky  was  funny  three  times  today,  but 
it  gets  tiresome,"  he  said.  "The  'C'  Bench  is 
for  upper-classmen,  but  there's  no  sense  in 
Blacky 's  method  of  enforcing  the  rule.  By 
the  way,  my  name  's  Harding.  I  suppose 
you  're  kind  of  lonesome.    Are  you?" 

"A  little  bit,"  Phil  admitted.  Everybody 
seemed  to  know  that  he  was  a  freshman. 

22 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 

"1 11  tell  you,  come  over  to  my  fraternity 
house  to  dinner  and  get  acquainted,  ■  ■  Harding 
suggested,  as  if  that  clever  idea  had  just  struck 
him  with  much  force.  He  seemed  disappointed 
when  he  learned  of  the  Rho  date,  but  said  they 
might  as  well  stroll  over  anyway,  for  "a  pipe- 
ful" before  dinner.  The  freshman  agreed.  He 
began  to  wonder  slightly  at  the  repeated  offers 
of  hospitality,  and  the  extreme  pleasure  every- 
body seemed  to  have  in  his  company.  You 
see,  he  hadn't  prepped  with  Freddy,  who  had 
belonged  to  a  fraternity  at  the  academy  and 
consequently  knew  all  about  college  life.  But 
he  had  heard  of  a  thing  called  rushing,  and  he 
knew  he  was  experiencing  it  when  he  had  been 
in  the  Zeta  Mu  house  about  a  minute. 

The  Zeta  Mus  were  obviously  on  their 
best  behavior.  They  treated  the  freshman  with 
such  marked  deference,  and  hung  so  eagerly 
upon  his  few  words  that  anybody  would  have 
known  it.  Each  man  wrung  his  hand  and 
said,  in  the  same  fervent  tone  of  voice,  that  he 
was  delighted  to  see  him.  Four  or  five  fel- 
lows who  had  been  tousling  one  another's  hair 
in  the  next  room,  ran  upstairs  and  combed 
themselves  and  ran  down  again.  They  also 
were  delighted. 


MAROON  TALES 

Somebody  asked  Phil  if  lie  had  registered 
yet,  and  as  the  freshman  seemed  to  appear  in- 
terested in  that  subject  and  said  that  he 
should  have  to  study  the  next  day,  the  Zeta 
Mus  suddenly  began  an  animated  discussion  of 
the  latest  entrance  requirements.  The  Zeta 
Mus  believed  in  this  system.  Shortly  before, 
they  had  been  debating  the  relative  merits  of 
two  brands  of  imported  beer  with  a  freshman 
who  lived  in  Chicago  and  was  very  wise. 

A  pale,  bespectacled  young  man,  named 
Sober  Rawlstone,  immediately  attached  himself 
to  Phil,  led  him  into  a  corner  on  the  pretext  of 
showing  him  the  house,  and  began  to  talk  earn- 
estly. Phil  had  been  mentally  ticketed  and  as- 
signed to  Class  B  in  the  Zeta  Mu  rushing 
list.  Class  B  always  received  Rawlstone *s  in- 
stant attention. 

"You  know,  Jennings,"  he  said,  "it  is  a 
pretty  tough  proposition  to  get  started  in  col- 
lege— started  right,  I  mean.  Of  course,  study 
and  all  that  is  a  hardship  sometimes,  isn't  it?" 

Rawlstone  wished  to  be  perfectly  sure  that 
he  was  addressing  a  youthful  grind  before  he 
proceeded.  Phil  replied  that  he  should  not  ex- 
actly call  it  a  hardship.    He  feared  he  might 

24 


THE   EXTEA   MAJOE 

hurt  the  pale  fellow's  feelings  if  he  answered 
in  another  way. 

"I  remember  my  own  case  as  a  freshman," 
Eawlstone  went  on,  now  certain  of  his  ground. 
"I  came  here  to  study,  and  I  had  a  mighty  hard 
time  doing  it  at  first.  It  was  this  fraternity 
and  that  fraternity  until  I  had  just  about 
enough  time  left  to  go  to  classes.  There  are 
many  distractions  in  college  life,  Jennings,  and 
one  has  to  settle  down  quickly  if  one  means 
to  go  after  good  grades." 

So  far,  Eawlstone 's  remarks  were  true. 

"And  marks,  my  boy,  are  what  count,"  he 
continued,  lowering  his  voice.  "I  happened  to 
join  this  fraternity,  and  I  '11  never  regret  it, 
because  it  gave  an  impetus  to  my  work.  I  never 
could  have  got  through  in  some  of  the  crowds 
here.  Every  fraternity  has  its  own  specialty, 
you  see,  and  ours  is  study,  my  boy — study. 
Some  of  the  crowds  go  in  for  athletics  and  some 
for  the  speed  limit,  but  I  think  you  must  have 
noticed  how  interested  all  our  fellows  are  in 
their  classes.  Now,  that 's  all,  but  if  you  need 
any  advice,  come  to  me,  Jennings — come  to 
me." 

Phil  thanked  Eawlstone,  who  said,  "Not  at 

25 


MAROON  TALES 

all — not  at  all,"  and  lie  was  glad  when  it  was 
time  to  leave  for  the  Rho  house;  happier  still 
when  the  last  of  the  Zeta  Mus  had  wrung  his 
hand  and  assured  him  of  the  rapture  his  visit 
had  afforded  them. 

Phil  hoped  the  Rhos  would  not  make  him  feel 
quite  so  uncomfortable  as  the  Zeta  Mus.  He 
was  quickly  reassured.  He  almost  forgot  that 
he  was  a  freshman  before  dinner  had  fairly 
begun. 

Norton  and  Wallace  and  Taylor  pounced 
upon  him  at  once,  demanding  his  version  of 
"that  archipelago  story.' '  Wallace  said  that 
Al  and  Norry  had  been  accusing  him  of  some 
fool  remark  about  the  thing,  and  that  they 
had  looked  it  up  in  the  dictionary  and  therefore 
felt  safe  in  "  joshing' !  him.  Al  and  Norry  held 
that  he  had  described  an  archipelago  as  a  large 
body  of  fish  partly  submerged  by  the  Gulf 
Stream.  Whatever  it  was,  Red  was  certain  that 
Al  and  Norry  had  said  it.  He  remembered  dis- 
tinctly that  they  had  said  it  together  in  a 
very  loud  tone. 

The  dispute  was  renewed  in  the  dining  room 
when  the  deep-throated  gong  had  sounded, 
and  Phil  lost  every  trace  of  embarrassment  in 

26 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 

trying  to  answer  impartially,  which  was  so  im- 
possible that  it  was  amusing.  Landon,  who 
seemed  to  be  older  than  the  rest,  advised  him 
to  withhold  judgment  in  view  of  the  serious 
nature  of  the  accusations,  and  threatened  them 
all  with  contempt  of  court  if  they  objected  to 
his  ruling.  Then  Landon  and  Norton  told 
stories,  and  when  the  dinner  was  finished  and 
the  fellows  had  drifted  into  the  big  living 
rooms,  the  other  freshman  guests  as  well  as 
Phil  seemed  to  be  enjoying  themselves  hugely. 
Nobody  seemed  in  the  least  impressed  by  the 
importance  of  the  occasion. 

Norry  Norton  sat  with  Phil  on  the  front 
room  window-seat  for  a  time  and  talked  about 
the  generally  excellent  spirit  of  the  incoming 
freshmen,  and  then  he  pointed  out  the  pictures 
of  the  Rhos  of  former  years  and  of  the  Uni- 
versity athletic  teams,  which  almost  covered  the 
walls  of  the  three  adjoining  rooms.  Phil 
noticed  Norry  in  some  of  the  football  pictures, 
and  asked  him  what  position  he  played.  He 
learned  that  Norry  was  only  a  sub.  back  and 
"very  rotten,' '  but  that  Ted  Larned,  the 
fellow  singing  a  comic  song  over  by  the  piano, 
was  left  tackle  and  a  holy  terror  in  an  open 

27 


MAEOON  TALES 

field  and  could  defeat  an  ordinary  team  alone, 
almost.  Many  other  Rhos  were  in  the  track, 
baseball  and  football  pictures,  and  in  other 
groups,  which  were  honor  societies. 

Ted  Larned  finished  his  comic  song  and  an- 
nounced that  he  had  decided  to  entertain  with 
his  last  and  greatest  effort,  which  would  be 
worthy  of  tumultuous  applause.  It  turned 
out  to  be  a  familiar  college  tune,  and  Phil  and 
the  other  freshmen  clapped  their  hands,  though 
no  one  else  did.  The  next  was  even  better. 
All  the  fellows  jumped  up  and  crowded  around 
the  piano  when  the  one  they  called  Squib 
struck  the  opening  chords,  and  they  all  sang, 
strong  and  loud,  especially  on  the  chorus.  It 
was  a  song  about  Chicago.  One  of  Norry's 
arms  was  around  PhiPs  shoulders  and  his  other 
one  was  around  the  shoulders  of  the  fellow  on 
the  other  side.  They  sang  some  more  then, 
and  when  they  stopped,  they  mauled  each  other 
about,  and  seemed  livelier  than  ever. 

There  was  a  Eho  bull-terrier,  spotless  white, 
but  for  a  red  spot  on  one  side,  where,  Al 
Taylor  said,  the  Phi  Tau  bulldog  had  been  fool- 
ish enough  to  leave  a  tooth-mark.  Bill  had  up 
and  taught  the  Phi  Tau  pup  what  he  should 

28 


THE   EXTEA   MAJOE 

have  known  before.  Bill  permitted  himself  to 
be  swung  by  the  tail,  trundled  by  the  hind  legs, 
and  rolled  downstairs.  The  freshmen  consid- 
ered him  a  wonder,  and  insisted  upon  a  constant 
repetition  of  his  limited  program  of  tricks  un- 
til he  finally  lost  his  manners  and  snapped  at 
the  strangely  presumptuous  little  boys,  who 
then  turned  their  attention  to  the  stunts  and 
the  buzz  of  talk. 

Phil  could  not  make  up  his  mind  just  what 
the  Ehos  stood  for.  Eawlstone  had  said 
that  each  crowd  specialized  in  something;  but 
here,  surely,  were  all  sorts  of  fellows.  Some 
seemed  serious,  and  some  rather  irresponsible, 
and  sometimes  they  seemed  neither  or  both. 
Landon,  now,  must  be  quite  important.  Norton 
and  Taylor  had  been  asking  him  about  certain 
problems  of  their  own,  and  he  had  set  them 
right  at  once.  A  moment  later  he  had  danced  a 
jig  with  Eed  Wallace  and  engaged  in  a  hot- 
hand  competition  with  Grant  and  Hawkins,  two 
of  the  Eho  pledges.  It  was  the  same  with  the 
others.  Phil  thought  these  fellows  were  about 
the  finest  he  had  ever  seen. 

Stringer,  one  of  the  freshmen — the  one  that 
had  sat  beside  him  in  the  dean's  office — sup- 

29 


MAKOON  TALES 

plied  a  great  quantity  of  unrelated  informa- 
tion regarding  the  Bho  men.  He  told  Phil,  in  the 
confidential  stage  whisper  he  had  employed  in 
pointing  out  the  possibilities  of  the  senior 
courses,  that  he  had  been  " pumping"  one  of  the 
other  freshmen  and  had  learned  a  lot.  That 
big  fellow  Landon  was  called  Bugs  for  short, 
and  the  very  blond  fellow  was  Pop  Walters. 
The  one  playing  the  banjo  was  in  the  Dramatic 
Club,  and  about  everything  else  there  was.  The 
skinny  chap  leaning  against  the  wall  was  a 
wonder  in  the  half-mile  and  the  champion  prep, 
runner  of  the  state;  he  was  only  a  freshman, 
but  he  could  tear  off  a  half  in  no  time  at  all,  and 
he  had  never  been  pushed.  Morris,  the  one  at 
the  piano,  was  in  the  Blackfriars,  and  he  made 
a  " queen' 9  of  a  girl — couldn't  tell  the  dif- 
ference. 

"They're  pretty  fine  fellows,  I  can  tell  you, 
aren't  they?"  Stringer  whispered.  " Don't 
you  think  it 's  great?" 

"Yes,  it  is,"  said  Phil,  softly.  He  believed 
exactly  as  Stringer  did.  It  was  great.  He 
thought  about  it  all  the  way  to  his  room,  while 
Norry  was  walking  home  with  him.  He  prom- 
ised to  come  again — half  a  dozen  times — and 

30 


THE   EXTKA   MAJOR 

he  would  have  made  it  even  more  if  Norton  had 
insisted. 

Phil  imagined  he  had  learned  a  good  deal 
that  first  day.  When  he  saw  that  Freddy 
had  not  returned  to  the  room,  he  got  out  his 
new  writing  paper  and  started  to  compose  some 
home  letters.  He  would  tell  his  father  that  he 
had  decided  not  to  accept  Halderman's  offer. 
That  would  be  easy  enough.  He  would  simply 
say  that  he  liked  college  far  too  well  to  leave  it 
now,  impressing  the  fact  that  he  was  certain 
of  getting  a  great  deal  out  of  it.  That  assurance 
might  please  his  father — he  had  so  carefully 
emphasized  the  necessity  of  securing  full  value 
at  the  University. 

First,  he  intended  to  calm  his  mother's  fears 
about  Freddy.  His  aunt  was  just  frightened 
by  the  silly  stuff  she  had  read  about  college 
life.  Phil  was  fairly  certain  that  his  cousin's 
dissipations  had  not  reached  an  alarming 
stage,  despite  the  frequent  hints  of  his  dark 
deeds. 

A  noise  in  the  hall  disturbed  him  as  he 
was  beginning  the  letter  to  his  mother.  The 
door  opened  and  Freddy  came  in,  followed  by 
Tommy  Blythe.     Both  stood  blinking  at  the 

31 


MAROON   TALES 

light  for  a  moment :  Freddy,  very  pale  of  face 
and  watery  of  eye,  leaning  listlessly  against 
the  wall;  Tommy  bracing  his  stubby  body 
against  a  dirty  piece  of  iron  piping. 

"Hello,  fellows,"  Phil  greeted  them. 

"Good  evening,  Jennings.  How  do  you  like 
my  cane,  eh?"  said  Tommy  Blythe,  bringing 
the  section  of  heavy  piping  to  the  floor  with  a 
mighty  and  uncertain  thump,  perilously  near 
Phil's  toes. 

"Good  evening,  Jennings.  How  do  you  like 
his  cane,  huh?"  echoed  Freddy. 

"I  could  brain  a  man  with  that,"  observed 
Tommy,  with  another  whack  of  his  new  toy 
that  sent  him  sprawling  to  the  floor. 

"He  could  brain  a  man,  he  could  brain  a 
man,"  repeated  Freddy  in  a  very  stupid  tone, 
as  he  slid  down  beside  Tommy.  Both  were 
smiling  feebly. 

"I  thought,  Freddy,"  mumbled  Tommy, 
dwelling  upon  each  word  with  grotesque  grav- 
ity— "I  really  and  truly  understood  that  you 
were  more  of  a  tank." 

He  seemed  dreadfully  hurt  over  it.  Phil 
thought  he  was  going  to  weep. 

"I    said,    Frederick,    you    old    stiff,    you," 

32 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 

Tommy  went  on,  with  an  attempt  at  a  wink  in 
PhiPs  direction — "I  repeat  that  I  was  laboring 
under  the  delusion  that  your  capacity  was 
larger  than  seems  to  be  the  case.^ 

Freddy  did  not  hear  this,  because  he  was 
asleep.  His  head  was  in  Tommy's  lap.  But 
Tommy  did  not  notice  it,  and  kept  turning  from 
side  to  side  in  a  bewildered  effort  to  find  him. 

"I  hope  you  will  not  mind  Freddy,  Jen- 
nings," he  said.  "I  think  he  has  gone  to  bed 
without  saying  good  night." 

Tommy  finally  crawled  to  his  feet,  allowing 
Freddy's  head  to  thump  against  the  floor,  and 
sat  down  in  the  Morris  chair.  He  solemnly 
raised  his  right  leg  as  high  as  he  could,  held 
it  aloft  with  one  hand  while  he  unbuckled  his 
shoe  and  threw  it  against  the  wall,  and  lowered 
the  member  to  the  floor.  This  accomplished, 
he  repeated  the  process  with  the  other  leg. 

"Now,  I  think  I  shall  retire,  if  you  will  par- 
don the  liberty  of  doing  so,"  he  said.  "I  feel 
quite  sleepy,  you  know." 

Phil  might  have  enjoyed  this  spectacle  at 
some  other  time.  At  this  particular  time,  he 
did  not.  He  got  up  and  guided  Tommy  into 
Freddy's    sleeping    apartment.      He   dragged 

33 


MAROON  TALES 

Freddy  into  the  same  room,  took  off  his  coat 
and  trousers — there  was  a  Phi  Tau  pledge-but- 
ton in  the  coat  lapel — and  piled  him  into  the 
narrow  cot  with  Tommy,  who  was  already 
asleep  with  his  yellow  head  angelically  resting 
on  one  of  Mrs.  Ball's  drawn-work  pillows. 

Then  he  returned  to  the  study-table  and  tore 
up  the  letter  he  had  begun.  He  stood  for  a 
while  looking  out  at  the  shining  arc-lights  dot- 
ting the  campus.  For  the  first  time  he  saw 
them  flicker  and  turn  black. 


34 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 


II 


Phil  Jennings  was  merely  an  average  fresh- 
man. He  was  not  overinclined  toward  the  vir- 
tuous— which  is  much  the  same  thing;  and 
he  had  a  fair  sense  of  proportion.  He  did  not 
blubber  about  Freddy  BalPs  first  exhibition  of 
wickedness,  chiefly  because  he  was  disgusted. 
The  next  morning,  when  he  had  thought  it  over, 
he  wrote  his  mother  that  he  would  be  responsi- 
ble. He  really  believed  Freddy  would  not  do  it 
again,  but  in  this  he  cruelly  misjudged  his 
cousin.  That  night  Freddy  was  carried  up- 
stairs by  a  cabman.  The  following  two  nights  he 
did  not  return  at  all,  but  arrived  later  with 
a  patch  over  one  eye  and  a  silly  walk.  This 
seemed  to  indicate  his  intention  to  do  the  thing 
properly. 

Late  in  the  week  Phil  sat  down  and  took 
stock  of  the  situation,  which  he  imagined  he 
saw  quite  clearly.  He  had  given  his  word  that 
he  would  shelter  and  protect  a  young  idiot  who 
happened  to  be  his  cousin  and  who  was  trying 
hard  to  go  to  the  devil.  It  was  to  be  one  of 
those  crazy  missionary  stunts.    He  laughed  a 

35 


MAROON  TALES 

little  grimly  at  the  remembrance  of  Freddy's 
marked  indisposition  that  morning. 

Then  there  were  the  fraternities.  Since 
Freddy  had  jumped  at  the  Phi  Tau  bid  because 
Tommy  Blythe  had  told  him  to,  it  looked  as  if 
he  should  have  to  give  up  the  Rhos — and  that 
meant  Norry  Norton  and  Al  Taylor  and  Red 
Wallace.  Roberts,  the  Phi  Tau  junior,  had  told 
him  that  it  would  seem  strange  if  he  went  with 
any  other  crowd  than  his  cousin's.  Evidently 
Roberts  had  not  noticed  that  he  and  Freddy 
were  not  exactly  chummy. 

Phil  had  seen  a  dozen  fraternities.  He  had 
almost  been  made  to  feel  that  he  was  impor- 
tant. He  had  met  so  many  fellows  that  he  could 
not  begin  to  remember  their  names.  Most  of 
them  were  fine,  especially  the  Rhos.  The  Zeta 
Mus  had  given  a  dance,  at  which  a  girl  had  re- 
lated how  studious  and  serious  the  Zeta  Mus 
were.  The  same  young  woman,  having  con- 
sumed large  quantities  of  Phi  Tau  macaroons 
and  lemon-ice  at  a  similar  function  given  by 
that  organization,  had  dropped  broad  hints  con- 
cerning the  surpassing  opportunities  for  a  good 
time  within  the  Phi  Tau  circle.  The  girl  had  a 
poor  memory  for  faces. 

36 


THE    EXTRA   MAJOR 

The  Rhos  treated  him  as  one  of  themselves, 
and  he  felt  he  would  rather  join  them  than  do 
anything  else  he  knew.  He  politely  declined  the 
bids  of  Zeta  Mu  and  of  several  other  crowds. 
He  told  Roberts,  the  Phi  Tan  junior,  that  he 
could  not  possibly  decide  for  two  weeks,  and 
that  he  could  not  accept  any  rushing  invitations 
in  the  meantime.  He  told  Norry  Norton  the 
same  thing — and  that  hurt.  He  thought  it  was 
a  queer  coincidence  when  he  received  a  letter  in- 
forming him  that  Halderman  must  have  his  final 
answer  on  the  very  day  he  had  set  for  his  fra- 
ternity decision.  But  he  did  not  know  until 
afterward  just  how  queer  it  was. 

The  boy  began  to  feel  that  something  was 
wrong  with  his  head.  He  could  not  figure  out 
just  why  he  was  so  confused  about  Freddy  and 
the  Phi  Taus  and  the  Rhos  and  the  University. 
He  spent  one  whole  morning  sitting  on  a  bench 
in  front  of  the  German  Building  in  Jackson 
Park,  gazing  into  the  cloud-banks  far  out  in  the 
lake.  He  did  not  go  to  the  first  football  games, 
which  proved  that  something  was  wrong. 

The  next  week  he  stayed  in  his  room  as  much 
as  he  could.  He  hurried  to  and  from  his  classes 
and  cut  chapel  because  he  did  n't  want  to  see 

37 


MAROON    TALES 

people.  The  rushing  fell  off,  and  he  thought 
the  Rhos  were  cool  because  they  let  him  alone, 
when  they  were  only  giving  him  time.  He  saw 
Al  Taylor  and  the  bunch  swing  past  Hitchcock 
on  their  way  to  one  of  the  games,  and  then  he 
was  certain  they  did  n't  care.  And  when  he 
heard  the  Phi  Taus  coming  upstairs,  he 
dropped  out  of  the  north  window  and  ran  for 
a  Fifty-fifth  Street  car.  The  Phi  Taus  could 
not  understand  it ;  neither  could  Phil. 

After  this  he  tried  to  concentrate  his  atten- 
tion on  English  1  and  to  persuade  himself  that 
Freddy  was  improving.  His  English  themes 
on  college  life  were  such  curious  mixtures  of 
misinformation  and  youthful  pessimism  that 
the  instructor  confined  his  written  criticism 
to  a  large  interrogation-point  and  a  sympa- 
thetic inquiry  about  the  condition  of  his  stom- 
ach.   So  the  faculty  were  just  like  the  rest ! 

Little  Stringer  slapped  him  on  the  back  one 
day  and  asked  him  much  the  same  thing,  only 
he  said  "gizzard"  instead  of  stomach. 

"I  have  n't  seen  you  in  the  devil  of  a  time," 
said  Stringer.  "You  see  I  Ve  gone  Zeta 
Mu.  Is  n't  it  strange  how  fellows  will  get  sepa- 
rated?"   And  Phil  was  mightily  grateful  for 

38 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 

the  little  fellow's  friendship.  That  happened 
the  day  before  he  was  to  see  the  Phi  Taus  and 
the  Rhos. 

An  inspiration  came  to  him  next  morning  in 
German  class — an  inspiration  that  was  not 
strictly  according  to  the  freshman  code.  It  is 
quite  correct  for  freshmen  to  exchange  advice 
and  counsel  on  certain  topics;  on  the  best  inter- 
linear translation  of  Livy  or  the  various  meth- 
ods of  prolonging  a  recitation  until  the  bell 
rings.  These  things  must  be  learned,  of  course. 
It  is  not,  however,  considered  conventional  to 
wrestle  with  a  fellow-freshman's  ideas  on 
temperance  and  cuts,  and  such  things.  These 
are  a  fellow's  own  business.  So  far,  Phil  had 
observed  the  proprieties.  In  fact,  it  had  not 
occurred  to  him  that  he  might  gain  time  by  dis- 
cussing Freddy's  status  with  that  young  man 
himself.  Phil  was  nervous  that  morning,  and 
in  a  slightly  uncharitable  state  of  mind  toward 
his  cousin,  who  had  used  vividly  picturesque 
language  about  being  awakened  at  eight  o  'clock. 
He  shifted  about  in  his  seat  so  much  that  he 
annoyed  the  fellow  in  the  next  chair,  who  was 
trying  to  copy  down  every  word  of  the  instruc- 
tor's remarks  concerning  the  umlaut. 

39 


MABOON   TALES 

Freddy,  arrayed  in  his  fuzzy  red  dressing- 
gown,  with  his  feet  on  the  table,  his  hands  back 
of  his  head  and  a  cigarette  in  his  mouth,  was 
taking  his  ease  in  the  Morris  chair  when  Phil 
entered.  Phil  removed  his  coat,  put  on  his  fuzzy 
blue  dressing-gown,  and  sat  down  on  the  other 
side  of  the  table.  Both  of  them  looked  very 
young  and  good. 

"Have  you  been  to  your  classes,  Freddy!" 
asked  Phil.  He  meant  to  feel  around,  and  he 
fully  intended  to  be  decent  about  it. 

"No,  Philly."  Freddy's  tones  were  sweet 
and  low  and  his  facial  expression  absolutely 
seraphic.  Mrs.  Ball  might  have  beamed  her 
motherly  pride,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  cigar- 
ette. 

"You  should  have  gone  to  History.  We  had 
a  quiz,"  Phil  said,  in  a  louder  tone.  He  did 
not  care  for  Freddy's  angelic  fits. 

"Did  we!"  Freddy  stretched  his  legs  lux- 
uriously and  emitted  a  yawn. 

"Yes,  we  did,"  and  Phil's  voice  rose;  "but  I 
don't  suppose  it  makes  any  difference  to  you. 
You  've  cut  everything  for  the  last  week  and  a 
half." 

40 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 

"Well,  what  of  it?"  demanded  Freddy,  sit- 
ting up  suddenly.     " Whose  affair  is  that?" 

"Oh,  it  's  not  mine,"  Phil  returned.  "It  's 
yours  partly,  and  partly  it  *s  not.  I  simply 
wondered  how  you  felt  about  it,  for  reasons 
of  my  own." 

Freddy  arose  in  wrath.  "What  do  you 
mean  by  that,  you  tin  saint?"  he  exclaimed. 
"What  reasons?" 

"Shut  up,  Fred.  Shut  up  and  sit  down. 
I  '11  tell  you  now  what  I  was  leading  up  to,  and 
then  you  can  go  ahead  and  make  a  little  fool  of 
yourself  if  you  want  to." 

Phil  had  not  been  leading  up  to  anything,  as 
a  matter  of  fact.  He  simply  was  too  excited  to 
stop  and  the  words  kept  coming.  Freddy,  sur- 
prised at  first  by  his  quiet  cousin's  show  of  tem- 
per, stared  in  a  sort  of  astonished  disbelief 
at  this  uncomplimentary  broadside,  and  obedi- 
ently seated  himself. 

"I  '11  tell  you,"  Phil  went  on.  "I  '11  tell 
you,  you  little  fool.  You  Ve  set  out  to  be  an 
imitation  bad  man — you  and  that  crazy  little 
sport  of  a  Blythe.  You  Ve  been  trying  to  live 
up  to  the  reputation  you  think  you  Ve  got,  I 
suppose.    And  all  the  time  I  Ve  been  drooling 

41 


MAEOON   TALES 

around  the  campus  like  a  damned  sissy,  waiting 
for  you  to  quit  it.  I  thought  you  might  stop, 
you  always  get  so  sick  after  your  baby  drunks. ' ' 

This  high  and  mighty  attitude  was  not  just 
like  Phil  Jennings.    Freddy  continued  to  stare. 

"I  might  have  known  you  would  n't  have  the 
sense  to  stop."  Phil  stood  up  and  walked  over 
to  Freddy's  chair.  "That  shows  what  a  fool 
I  Ve  made  of  myself.  Now  go  on  out  and  sport 
around  again.  I  'm  through  with  it.  I  'm 
through  with  college.  I  'm  through  with  you, 
you  pink-and-white  little  idiot/ ' 

Freddy  arose  once  more,  and  his  fuzzy  red 
dressing-gown  rubbed  against  Phil's  blue  one. 
"Pink-and-white  idiot"  was  too  much! 

"Take  that  back,  you — you  sneaking 
preacher,"  he  roared. 

Phil  did  not  take  it  back.  There  was  but 
one  thing  to  do.  They  started  at  once.  PhiPs 
left  arm  guarded  off  the  blow  that  Freddy 
aimed  at  his  face,  and  the  two  grappled.  There 
was  n  't  any  science  in  it — just  outraged  youth 
on  both  sides.  The  hand-embroidered  dress- 
ing-gowns tripped  the  warriors,  and  they 
fell  heavily,  struggling  and  scuffling  halfway 
across  the  room.     They  rolled  and  kicked  and 

42 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 

punched  and  mopped  the  floor  with  each 
other.  Once  Freddy  had  Phil  on  his  back  and 
all  but  vanquished,  but  he  wriggled  loose.  Then 
Phil  pinned  Freddy  prone  for  an  instant  while 
he  got  his  breath. 

One  of  Freddy's  windmill  sweeps  of  arm 
caught  the  tobacco- jar  on  the  mantelpiece,  and 
it  crashed  to  the  hearth  with  the  chafing-dish 
and  the  "Mona  Lisa."  Only  the  tall,  leering 
devil  and  the  sophisticated  young  women  were 
left,  mute  spectators  of  the  combat.  From 
across  the  room,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jennings  and  the 
graduating  class  looked  down  serenely. 

It  was  not  very  edifying.  There  was  blood 
where  Freddy's  fist  had  collided  with  Phil's 
nose,  and  there  was  a  rapidly  swelling,  bluish 
protuberance  above  Freddy's  left  eye,  where 
the  study-table  had  interfered.  Finally,  in  a 
flying,  whirling  rush  from  Freddy's  bedroom, 
where  the  battle  had  swung  for  a  moment,  the 
tail  of  the  fuzzy  red  dressing-gown  caught  on 
a  sharp  metal  corner  and  held  its  owner  fast, 
tugging  in  impotent  rage  a  yard  from  the  pros- 
trate Phil,  who  had  tumbled  headlong  on  the 
slippery  floor.    There  came  a  tap  at  the  door. 

43 


MAKOON   TALES 

The  warriors  still  glared.  Koberts,  the  Phi 
Tau  junior,  walked  into  the  room. 

It  took  Phil  just  two  minutes  to  wash  his 
face  and  leave.  He  was  quivering  all  over. 
He  walked  away  from  the  campus  as  fast  as  he 
could  and  out  into  Washington  Park.  He  must 
have  gone  for  miles,  doubling  in  his  tracks 
along  the  graveled  paths,  for  his  legs  were 
tired  when  he  looked  up  and  saw  the  gigantic 
red  brick  chimney  of  the  power  house  rising 
near.  He  stopped  at  the  corner  drug  store  on 
his  way  back,  and  bought  some  stationery  and 
a  book  of  stamps.  He  circled  past  Hitchcock 
and  ran  up  to  the  fourth  floor  of  Cobb  and  be- 
gan to  write.  When  he  had  finished  the  letter 
and  put  it  in  his  pocket,  he  did  not  feel  so  much 
relieved  as  he  had  supposed  he  would.  This 
may  have  been  because  he  had  done  without 
luncheon. 

He  had  a  disagreeable  feeling  that  he  was 
deserting.  But,  surely,  he  reflected,  he  had 
good  cause  to  leave  the  place.  What  had  the 
big,  cold,  gray  University  done  for  him?  Had 
he  received  full  value?  And  what  had  come  of 
his  fine  ideas  about  saving  Freddy  Ball! 
Whose  fault  was  it?    Most  of  all  he  tried  to 

44 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 

believe  that  he  had  kept  faith  on  that  score.  He 
had  failed  to  fit  into  college  and  he  could  n't 
stay.  The  boy  with  the  healthy  freshman 
brain  gazed  at  the  weird  mathematical  dia- 
grams on  the  blackboard  and  thought  these 
foggy  thoughts  until  the  dusk  crept  in  at  the 
windows.  It  really  was  foolish  of  him  to  miss 
luncheon. 

The  lights  were  beginning  to  twinkle  from 
every  part  of  the  campus  when  he  came  out  of 
the  door  of  Cobb.  Some  one  shouted  his  name. 
It  was  Roberts,  the  Phi  Tau. 

"What  made  you  dig  away  so  suddenly,  Jen- 
nings V9  he  called.  "I  was  n't  going  to  choke 
you.  I  was  after  that  lively  young  relative  of 
yours.' ' 

1 '  Freddy  t    Did  you  choke  him  ? p ' 

"I  certainly  did.  Rammed  a  bunch  of  official 
communications  down  his  throat.  And  now  I  'm 
going  to  tell  you  about  it  because  I  think  you 
ought  to  hear.  You  see,  I  know  what  the 
rough  house  was  about."  Roberts  seemed  to 
think  it  was  funny.  "You  need  n't  look  incred- 
ulous," he  laughed,  "but  Freddy  has  been  see- 
ing things.  He  's  been  very  abject — said  some 
sentimental   things    about   his   family.     He 's 

45 


MABOON   TALES 

taken  the  pledge,  has  Freddy.  Incidently, 
Tommy  Blythe  has  followed  suit.  He  's  per- 
fectly harmless  now,  and  he  doesn't  care  who 
knows  it. 

"I  was  calling  in  a  semi-official  capacity  this 
morning  when  I  interrupted  the  bout,"  contin- 
ued Eoberts,  "I  had  a  little  present  for 
Freddy  in  the  shape  of  some  light  yellow  envel- 
opes. I  did  n't  like  to  see  them  sticking  in  the 
junior  rack,  so  I  lifted  them.  Down  in  every- 
thing, of  course,  including  Gym.  and  Public 
Spouting.  It  was  an  awful  shock,  especially  the 
letter  from  the  dean.  Deany  dropped  a  gentle 
hint  about  ordering  the  hearse  to  stop  for 
Freddy.  Said  he  and  Freddy  did  n't  seem  to 
be  getting  on  together.  He  was  scared  stiff — 
Freddy,  not  the  dean.  Tommy  came  up  a  little 
later  with  a  duplicate  set  of  correspondence, 
and  then  it  was  mostly  remorse  on  both  sides. 

"I  never  attended  such  a  soul-baring  clinic. 
You  see,  they  are  afraid  their  mothers  will  hear 
about  it.  They  told  me  everything,  because 
they  think  I  've  been  an  awful  sport  myself. 
There  was  nothing  very  terrible — just  too 
many  steins,  but  they  believe  they  have  gone  the 
pace." 

46 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 

"You  think  this  sudden  conversion  will  last, 
Roberts  f"  Phil  asked  doubtfully. 

"Last?  It  's  got  to  last  or  it  's  good-by  to 
those  children,  and  they  know  it.  You  see,  Jen- 
nings, it  works  automatically.  Those  yellow 
envelopes  exercise  a  restraining  influence  that  's 
positively  delightful.  Better  than  a  million 
preachments.  You  can't  stay  here  without 
grubbing  a  little  bit.  It  's  a  case  of  buck  up  or 
get  out." 

They  had  stopped  at  the  broad  intersection 
of  the  walks  beside  Kent  Laboratory. 

"And  it  's  not  only  the  University  that  dis- 
ciplines naughty  freshmen,"  Roberts  added. 
"The  Phi  Tau  fraternity  thinks  it  has  some- 
thing to  do  with  that.  We  don't  need  any  float- 
ers of  that  kind.  Oh,  don't  worry  about  Freddy. 
He  's  trapped  for  a  while,  and  when  he  gets 
straight  with  the  'TV  maybe  he  can  go  and 
commit  his  crimes  quietly  and  circumspectly, 
without  bothering  other  people.  He  '11  be  able 
to  take  care  of  himself  then.  And  now,  Jen- 
nings, I  want  to  ask  you  how  you  feel  on  the 
fraternity  question." 

The  meaning  of  Roberts'  news  had  been 
soaking  into  Phil  gradually, 

47 


MAROON   TALES 

"And  now  about  yourself,  Jennings.' ' 
Phil  knew  what  was  coming.    The  Phi  Tau 
extended  the  bid  in  a  few  earnest  words.  When 
he  had  finished,  he  said : 

"Well,  is  it  all  right,  Jennings V 
Phil  had  no  need  to  figure  out  an  answer.  He 
knew  how  he  felt.  He  wished  Norry  Norton 
instead  of  Roberts  had  asked  that  question. 
And  then  he  realized  with  a  start  that  even 
that  could  make  no  difference — now. 

"I  can't  accept,  Roberts,"  he  began.  "I " 

Over  by  the  Reynolds  Club  a  sharp  whistle 
sounded,  high  and  musical  and  clear — the  call 
of  the  Rhos.  It  was  answered  by  another  and 
then  another  somewhere  in  the  dark. 

"I  can't,  Roberts,"  he  repeated  simply. 
"That  's  all  I  can  tell  you.  I  can't  do  it,  but 
I  want  to  thank  you  for  what  you  've  done  and 
— and  it  was  mighty  fine  of  you." 

Roberts  was  genuinely  grieved.  He  did  not 
repeat  his  invitation,  because  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  freshman's  voice  that  he  knew 
was  final.  Also,  he  had  heard  that  whistle,  and 
he  was  looking  straight  into  the  boy's  eyes  when 
it  sounded.  They  shook  hands.  Phil  was  stand- 
ing alone  in  the  shadow  when  the  Rhos  bumped 


48 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 

into  him.  There  were  three  of  them — the  same 
three  he  had  met  the  first  day  at  college. 
His  freshman  heart  labored  strangely  under 
the  letter  in  his  pocket. 

"Phil  Jennings,  where  have  you  been!"  Nor- 
ton demanded. 

"Been  looking  under  the  sidewalks  for  you," 
said  Al  Taylor. 

"And  up  the  trees,"  added  Wallace. 

Norton  and  Taylor  put  their  arms  in  PhiPs 
and  dragged  him  along  with  them  across  the 
campus. 

"You  're  going  to  dinner  with  us,"  sang 
Red,  dancing  along  in  front  of  him.  "And  then 
to  the  mass  meeting.    Big  doings." 

And  now,  for  some  reason,  the  City  Gray 
seemed  different — much  different.  It  was  beau- 
tiful, Phil  thought;  more  beautiful  than  he 
could  have  believed,  and  certainly  not  cold,  nor 
heartless.  Even  the  breeze  that  blew  in  his 
eyes  was  intimate  and  friendly.  Lights 
were  shining  from  many  windows  now;  from 
Cobb  and  Haskell  and  Walker  and  Law,  and 
from  the  Women's  Quadrangles  beyond  the 
stretch  of  Sleepy  Hollow  and  the  sunken  tennis 
courts.    It  was  good  to  look  at  these  things,  and 

49 


MAEOON   TALES 

it  was  good  to  feel  the  tug  of  arms  locked  in  his 
and  to  hear  the  soft,  low  snatches  of  the  Chi- 
cago songs  the  fellows  were  humming.  Phil's 
throat  tightened  a  little.  He  did  not  know 
why. 

He  learned  a  few  things  about  his  University 
during  dinner  hour,  when  he  sat  again  at  the 
upper-class  table.  Landon  had  been  carrying  on 
a  spirited  discussion  of  college  topics  with  a 
fellow  named  Destyn,  who  was  visiting  him. 
There  had  been  various  comparisons,  and  Des- 
tyn was  not  convinced.  So  they  introduced  the 
question  at  dinner. 

"But,  good  Lord,  Landon,  you  have  n't  the 
traditions/ '  Destyn  insisted. 

"I  know,  Destyn,  I  know  all  that,"  returned 
Landon.  "Your  argument  is  beautifully  famil- 
iar. It  's  like  greeting  an  old  friend.  Even  the 
freshmen  are  acquainted  with  it. ' ' 

"I  suppose  you  have  a  fine  rebuttal  cooked 
up,  too,"  Destyn  smiled.  "Now  crush  me 
with  it." 

"No,  that 's  not  the  way  we  do  it,"  said  Lan- 
don. "We  haven't  any  stock  rebuttals.  We 
don  't  try  to  impress  our  antiquity  upon  people, 
Destyn.    It  's  true,  we  are  young — the  college 

50 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 

part  of  us.  I  suppose  that  's  what  you  mean." 
He  spoke  slowly  and  musingly.  The  others 
were  listening. 

"No,  Destyn,  we  have  n't,  strictly  speaking, 
all  of  the  customs  that  were  handed  to  you 
when  you  entered  college.  Some  of  our 
fathers  went  to  the  Old  University,  but  even 
they  did  n't  leave  us  much  in  that  line.  I  think 
they  had  a  rather  hard  time  getting  that  sort 
of  poetry  out  of  Chicago  as  it  was  then — the 
city's  waking  up  to  lots  of  things  now.  And 
still,  my  father  comes  out  here  on  Alumni  Day 
and  speaks  his  piece  and  gets  about  a  thousand 
years  younger. 

"You  see,  some  of  us  have  helped  to  make 
what  we  call  our  traditions — that  's  putting  it 
rather  loosely,  perhaps.  Why,  I  saw  the  very 
stones  of  Hitchcock  piled  together  only  a  short 
time  before  I  came  to  college — when  I  was  in 
prep,  school.  There  wasn't  any  Mandel  Hall 
then,  or  even  a  Mitchell  Tower,  or  Hutchinson, 
or  a  Reynolds  Club.  There  wasn't  any  'C1 
Bench.  I  saw  that  made,  and  I  saw  the  Law 
building  go  up.  I  planted  some  of  the  ivy  you 
admired  today. 

"We   haven't   had    time   to    lay   back   and 

51 


MAROON   TALES 

think  of  the  past — of  our  past,  I  mean.  We  've 
been  building  all  the  time.  There  's  something 
in  creating  these  things,  you  know — yes, 
there  's  something  in  making  them,  Destyn." 

One  of  the  other  seniors  took  up  the  argu- 
ment. An  old  grad.  spoke  rather  heavily  of 
the  "development  of  the  Chicago  personality/ ' 
and  one  of  the  freshmen,  who  was  dying  to  hear 
his  own  voice  again,  piped  in  something  about 
the  Three-Quarters  Club.  Destyn  was  not  im- 
pressed by  all  this,  of  course,  because  he  had 
not  intended  to  be.  But  to  Phil  it  was  new  and 
strange  and  fine.  Even  the  football  parley  that 
followed  seemed  less  important. 

"What  are  the  prospects  for  tomorrow's 
game?"  the  grad.  asked,  and  that  started  it. 

"Really,  I  hate  to  say,"  Red  spoke  up.  "It 
seems  so  brutal.  We  will  annihilate  the  poor 
things,  of  course." 

Red's  view  of  the  case  was  slightly  over- 
drawn, the  others  thought.  The  "poor  things" 
were  Chicago's  strongest  rivals,  and  it  was 
a  matter  of  general  concern  that  the  game 
had  been  scheduled  for  an  earlier  date  than 
usual.  Three  or  four  fellows  protested  against 
Red's  statement. 

52 


THE   EXTEA   MAJOR 

"The  Old  Man  does  n't  seem  to  think  so,"  re- 
marked Taylor.  "I  'm  sure  lie  'd  feel  more 
cheerful  if  he  knew  the  real  facts. ' ' 

Red  fixed  a  discouraged  glance  upon  Al. 
"You  're  going  to  see  a  different  team  tomor- 
row," he  declared.  "And  after  it 's  over,  you 
will  have  an  opportunity  to  drag  in  your  favor- 
ite poetry  about  Dicky  Lee." 

"What  's  in  the  air?"  "What  about  Dicky 
Lee?"  demanded  the  Rhos.  Everybody  wanted 
to  hear  the  news  about  the  great  half-back. 

"A  new  formation  with  Lee  all  over  the 
field,  that  's  all.  The  best  we  ever  had,  and  it  's 
going  to  make  history.  It 's  a  pity  we  have  to 
spring  it  tomorrow,  but  it  's  got  to  come  out. 
It  's  simply  the  last  word  in  the  Old  Man's  foot- 
ball language." 

Only  the  football  squad  and  a  few  favored 
ones  knew  of  the  play.  Red  had  coaxed  the 
news  from  Ted  Larned  on  the  solemn  under- 
standing that  he  would  "keep  his  mouth  shut 
for  once."  Larned  and  Norton  never  told  the 
secrets  of  the  team. 

"The  yell-fest  is  going  to  be  in  Kent  tonight 
— early.  Better  move,"  Red  suggested,  and 
the  fellows  hurried  for  their  wraps. 

53 


MAKOON   TALES 

Phil  was  eager  to  see  this  man  Lee.  It 
might  be  his  last  chance !  The  fellows  were  all 
talking  about  him  as  they  walked  across  the 
campus. 

Phil  asked  Taylor  if  he  thought  Lee  could 
really  win  the  game  with  the  new  play. 

1 '  Dicky  Lee  and  the  Old  Man  together  can 
do  about  anything/ '  Taylor  told  him.  "As 
sure  as  we  're  walking  into  Kent,  Dicky  Lee 
will  win,  if  what  Red  says  is  true.  And,  Phil, 
I  want  you  to  stick  with  me  after  the  mass 
meeting.  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  Norry  and  I 
were  going  to  see  you  before  dinner,  but  he  had 
to  rush  over  to  meet  the  team,  you  know. ' ' 

They  pushed  through  the  crowd  that  filled 
the  wide  stairway  inside  the  doors  of  Kent  The- 
ater, and  found  standing  room  behind  the  last 
row  of  seats,  high  up  against  the  rear  wall  of 
the  sloping  auditorium.  The  band  was  play- 
ing— no  other  music  is  like  it.  Fellows  were  sit- 
ting in  the  middle  aisle  and  leaning  against  the 
side  walls.  One  part  of  the  hall  was  occupied 
by  the  girls.  Phil  could  look  down  over  their 
nodding  heads  to  the  stage,  where  four  fellows 
with  megaphones  were  holding  an  excited  con- 
ference.     One    of   them   had   just   rushed    in 

54 


THE    EXTRA   MAJOR 

with  half  a  dozen  others,  who  had  mixed  into 
the  mob.  The  crowd  cheered  for  them  just  be- 
cause it  wanted  to  yell. 

In  less  than  a  minute  a  confused  murmur 
was  running  through  the  hall,  and  the  tone  of 
it  was  ominous.  "Don 't  you  believe  it!" 
"Dicky  Lee?"  "Yes,  Dicky  Lee."  Phil  won- 
dered what  Lee  had  done  now. 

"What  is  it,  Miles?"  Red  asked  the  boy  in 
front  of  him. 

"Lee  is  hurt,  they  say.    Ankle  smashed." 

"Did  you  hear  that,  Al?"  Red  asked  in  a 
frightened  whisper.  "Did  you  hear  that? 
Dicky  Lee's  ankle  *s  broken." 

Others  were  asking  the  same  thing  in  the 
same  scared  voice.    Kent  became  almost  quiet. 

"The  team!"  shouted  one  of  the  cheer-lead- 
ers. 

Everybody  stood  up.  A  big  fellow  stepped 
through  the  stage  entrance  into  the  light,  and 
the  noise  broke.  The  sharp,  staccato  battle  cry 
of  Chicago  rang  out  again  and  again.  It  was 
repeated  with  "the  team"  on  the  end,  fast  and 
strong,  while  the  big  fellow  and  his  followers 
stalked  to  their  seats.  The  cheer-leaders  waved 
their  megaphones  wildly.    And  the  crowd  was 

55 


MAEOON   TALES 

watching  the  entrance.  Everybody  strained 
necks  and  pushed  and  jumped  while  they  yelled, 
trying  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  Dicky  Lee. 
Ten  of  the  regulars  and  a  small  group  of 
subs,  had  come  through  the  dark  hole.  Maybe 
Dicky  would  come  last,  with  the  Old  Man. 
There  was  a  second  or  two  of  suspense,  and 
the  Old  Man  walked  in,  at  the  back  of  his  foot- 
ball children — alone. 

"Where  is  heV  the  thousand  whispered  to 
themselves  and  their  neighbors. 

At  that  particular  instant  Dicky  Lee  the 
Great  was  cursing  his  stars  in  his  room,  where 
he  had  been  carried  after  that  soul-sickening 
snap  in  the  last  minute  of  practice. 

Phil  heard  Bed  and  Al  exchange  excited  ex- 
clamations : 

1  '  That  means  Norry. ' ' 

"He  '11  play  Norry.' ■ 

It  was  the  first  thing  the  crowd  thought  of. 
The  eyes  of  the  thousand  were  fixed  on  Norry 
Norton.  Norry  Norton,  sub.  right  half!  The 
cheering  continued,  but  it  had  to  be  worked  up 
by  the  leaders.  At  a  sign  from  one  of  these, 
the  noise  stopped.  A  young  fellow — Phil  recog- 

56 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 

nized  him  as  an  instructor — stepped  out  and 
faced  the  crowd. 

1 '  You  want  to  know  what  has  happened,  and 
the  boys  want  me  to  tell  you,"  he  said.  "You 
may  know  already.  Lee  is  out  of  it.  He 
fractured  his  ankle  on  the  field  this  evening 
after  the  rest  of  the  men  had  left  the  field.  He 
can't  play  tomorrow,  but  we  '11  have  eleven 
men  on  Marshall  Field,  and  we  '11  all  be  back 
of  them.  Just  one  more  word.  Norton  will 
play  right  half.  It  's  pretty  sudden  and  it  's  a 
hard  job,  but  if  you  know  Norton " 

"Who  is  Norton?"  somebody  yelled,  and  the 
thousand  greeted  him  wildly  and  stamped  their 
feet  on  the  floor  as  Norry  was  pushed  into  the 
center  of  the  stage. 

"I  can  't  play  like  Dicky  Lee,"  Norry  began. 
"I  can  't  play  like  the  other  fellows.  But " 

Norry  *s  voice  was  husky  and  his  lips  twitched. 
The  crowd  rose  to  him.  The  freshmen,  who 
scarcely  knew  who  he  was,  almost  yelled  their 
heads  off,  because  the  others  were  going  mad 
about  him.  Norry  stood  there  for  a  moment 
while  the  storm  of  crashing  sound  came  down 
to  him.  He  turned  slowly  then  and  found  his 
seat.     But    the    thousand    had    not    finished. 

57 


MAROON    TALES 

They  forgot  to  save  their  throats  for  the  game. 
They  forgot  everything  but  the  boy  sitting 
there  beside  the  Old  Man.  They  gave  Norry 
Norton  his  due. 

* '  Norry 's  worked  three  years  for  that  team," 
Al  Taylor  shouted  in  PhiPs  ear.  "Three  long 
years  he  's  worked  like  a  Turk  and  sat  on  the 
side-lines,  and  he  didn't  expect  any  glory." 

Phil  did  n't  hear  what  the  next  speaker  said. 
"Three  long  years  he's  worked  like  a  Turk!" 
Al's  phrase  rang  in  his  head.  Three  long  years 
without  any  glory!  Three  long  years  subbing 
for  Dicky  Lee.  Three  years  working  for  the 
"U."  It  went  to  his  heart  like  a  challenge. 
It  was  what  he  had  waited  for.  And  because 
a  freshman  is  a  noise-producing  animal,  he 
vented  his  feelings  in  a  shout  that  was  drowned 
in  the  roar  of  a  great,  cumulative  volume  of 
sound.  They  were  yelling  for  the  Old  Man 
now,  and  he  was  looking  up  at  them  with 
a  quiet  smile  on  his  face — a  smile  that  was  as 
young  and  happy  as  Norry 's,  for  strangely 
enough,  the  Old  Man  was  not  old  at  all. 

Probably  you  know  the  rest  of  the  things  Phil 
saw  and  heard.  He  has  not  forgotten  them.  He 
never  will. 

58 


THE   EXTRA   MAJOR 

When  it  was  over,  he  clambered  down  from 
his  high  place  and  joined  in  the  stumbling  rush 
for  the  doors.  He  was  grasping  the  shoulders 
of  a  little  fellow  in  front,  who  was  very  good  at 
worming  his  way  through  tiny  holes.  Some 
shoving  freshmen  plumped  him  fair  into  the 
arms  of  a  fellow  in  the  hall,  where  the  mob  was 
breaking.  The  fellow  was  laughing  and  so 
was  Phil.  They  both  said  "Wow!"  at  the  im- 
pact, and  looked  up.  Phil  Jennings  and  Freddy 
Ball  were  laughing  in  each  other's  faces.  They 
kept  on  laughing. 

When  they  had  found  Al  Taylor  and  Roberts, 
the  Phi  Tau,  and  Tommy  Blythe,  the  repent- 
ant, the  five  of  them  strolled  out  of  Kent,  as 
far  as  the  crossing  of  the  walks.  Al  and  Phil 
went  on  together. 

"And  now  we  '11  talk  it  over,"  Taylor  said. 
"We  can't  see  Norry  tonight." 

He  stopped  to  drop  an  envelope  into  the  let- 
ter-box by  Cobb.  Phil's  hand  went  suddenly 
to  his  inside  pocket.  He  drew  out  a  for- 
gotten letter,  stamped  and  addressed,  and 
looked  at  it  in  the  glow  of  the  campus  lights.  Al 
held  open  the  slot  of  the  green  box,  invitingly. 

59 


MAEOON  TALES 

' '  No,  Al, ' '  said  the  freshman.    i  i 
keep  it — as  a  curiosity." 


I  'm  going 


Sometimes,  when  freshmen  were  present,  the 
fellows  would  let  Phil  tell  about  the  mass 
meeting  that  woke  him  up.  One  of  the  fresh- 
men was  always  sure  to  pipe,  "Did  Norton  win 
the  game?"  Then  everybody  would  grin,  be- 
cause Norry's  run  is  part  of  history. 


CO 


THE  WISDOM  OF  HAWKINS 

"D  ICHAED  EUNT  HAWKINS  was  a  fresh- 
A^  man  with  freckles  all  over  his  face  and 
rather  large  ears  and  a  shape  like  his  middle 
name.  And  Editha  Ward  was  a  freshman  with  a 
great  deal  of  soft  brown  hair  and  trustful  eyes 
to  match  and  a  little  green  hat  that  was  fluffy. 
They  took  History  1  with  Instructor  Eliphalet 
Emerson,  who  is  mentioned  only  because  he 
seated  them  together,  according  to  one  of  his 
weird  and  inscrutable  systems.  Sometimes  they 
whispered. 

About  the  second  week  of  Autumn  Quarter, 
Eunt  began  to  be  queer.  He  gave  the  first  sign 
by  saying  a  remarkable  thing  to  Pop  Walters 
one  night  as  they  sat  by  the  lake  in  Jackson 
Park.    Said  he : 

"Pop,  I  am  very,  very  happy.' ' 

This  surely  was  an  extraordinary  state- 
ment, from  an  undersized  freshman  with  a 
funny  face.  Pop  thought  Eunt  must  be  getting 
poetic,  and  he  hardly  blamed  him.  For  many 
tiny  waves  were  splashing  against  the  stones 
at  their  feet,   and  round  about  them  was   a 

61 


MAEOON   TALES 

spicy  burnt-grass  smell  and  the  thrilling  tang 
of  the  first  real  football  weather.  The  combi- 
nation is  likely  to  make  you  say  things  you  do 
not  altogether  mean.    So  Pop  was  not  excited. 

"Are  you?"  he  said,  and  wondered  if  Wil- 
liams, the  freshman  coach,  had  let  the  boy  work 
with  the  first  squad. 

"Yes."    Then,  "Pop!" 

"Go  ahead." 

"Pop,  do  you  know  much  about  women?" 

"Certainly." 

"But  do  you  know  very  much  about  'em?" 

"Freshman,"  replied  Pop,  "I  have  been  co- 
educated  for  three  years  now  and  I've  taken 
two  majors  in  'The  Family.'  What  are  you 
driving  at?" 

"Nothing,"  with  a  wavering  pause;  "I  just 
wondered. ' ' 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  Pop  commanded. 

What  followed  would  have  been  simply  pain- 
ful to  a  confidant  less  tolerant  than  Walters, 
as  the  freshman  may  have  known.  He  would 
not  have  told  so  much  to  any  one  but  Pop, 
whom  he  regarded  as  a  sort  of  fraternal  father, 
and  with  whom  he  lived  in  the  relation  of  mod- 
ified feudalism  peculiar  to  such  alliances.   The 


62 


THE  WISDOM  OF  HAWKINS 

senior  was  very  indulgent,  for  a  feudal  lord, 
but  this  time  lie  was  displeased.  He  had  strict 
ideas  on  certain  subjects. 

Her  name,  it  appeared,  was  Editha  Ward,  and 
her  most  salient  characteristic  an  indefinable 
but  infinitely  potent  difference  from  all  others 
of  her  sex.  Oh,  there  had  been  a  few  in  high 
school!  She  owned  a  smile,  Eunt  said,  that 
would  soften  the  heart  of  a  trigonometry  pro- 
fessor. And  when  she  walked  across  the  cam- 
pus with  him,  she  would  try  to  take  long  steps, 
"as  a  girl  will,"  and  couldn't,  and  then  she 
would  laugh  and  show  the  dimple.  It  was  in 
the  left  cheek.  It  looked  lonesome.  Dicky  Lee 
had  sought  her  favor,  but  he  seemed  to  be  run- 
ning lame  for  all  his  half-back  fireworks  and 
his  face  in  the  papers  all  the  time.  Of  course 
they  had  been  introduced,  but  bah  for  conven- 
tionality ! — they  would  have  met  anyway.  She 
had  told  him  a  date  about  some  dried-up  old 
king,  that  had  put  him  through  one  of  Emer- 
son's consultations.     She  was  awfully  clever. 

"Brainy?"  inquired  Pop,  when  Kunt  stopped 
for  breath. 

Eunt  hotly  denied  this  aspersion  and  was 
silent  for  a  few  seconds.    Then  he  asked : 

63 


MABOON  TALES 

"Pop,  have  you  ever  been — been  struck  all 
in  a  heap?    That  is,  in  dead  earnest ?" 

"Lots  of  times,' '  sighed  Walters. 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  joke  about  it,"  and 
the  freshman's  voice  grew  earnest.  "It  's  not  a 
josh.  Surely,  some  things  are — are  sacred." 
Another  pause.  "  D '  you  know,  I  never  thought 
before  that  I  was  capable  of  a  deep  and  last- 
ing attachment.    I " 

"Been  reading  any  light  fiction  lately?"  in- 
terrupted Walters. 

"Why?" 

"How  's  your  pulse?"  But  Pop  could  feel 
the   boy's    reproachful   eyes,    and   he    added: 

"Can  I  help  you?    Anything  wanted?" 

"No — o."  Bunt  shied  a  pebble  into  the  lake. 
And  it  was  clear  that  he  was  not  telling  the 
exact  truth.  He  wanted  something  very  much 
and  had  been  on  the  point  of  divulging  it  sev- 
eral times,  only  to  subside  into  inarticulate 
stammering. 

"But  Pop!"  he  abruptly  exclaimed.  "I  do 
want  to  ask  you  not  to  guy  me." 

"All  right." 

"Much  obliged,"  and  Pop  knew  that  Bunt 
had  stretched  out  a  hand. 

64 


THE  WISDOM  OF  HAWKINS 

"See  that  shine  of  the  moon  on  the  water Vf 
breathed  the  lover.    "It  looks  like — like  molten 

"  The  new-born  esthetic  tumults   in  the 

soul  of  Bunt  struggled  for  an  outlet  that  stub- 
bornly remained  closed. 

"Like  molten  molasses V9  supplied  Walters. 

"Ye — es,M  doubtfully.  "See  how  it  un — un- 
dulates.' ' 

"It  certainly  does  undulate  very  undulat- 
ingly,"  agreed  Pop.  "And  by  the  same  token 
we  'd  better  undulate  homeward,  for  I  feel 
much  coolness.  I  Ve  a  few  little  odd  jobs  for 
you  before  bedtime.' ' 

Now,  Walters  and  the  rest  of  the  Ehos 
did  not,  of  course,  trouble  themselves  to  in- 
vestigate the  affairs  of  Runt  Hawkins  and 
Editha  Ward.  They  observed  and  speculated 
upon  the  sequence  of  events  from  the  com- 
fortable porches  and  window-seats  of  the  fra- 
ternity house.  It  was  much  as  if  Runt,  like 
the  tenor  in  the  opera,  entered  recurrently  and 
sang  of  his  stirring  off-stage  deeds,  while  his 
industriously  attentive  friends,  after  the  man- 
ner of  the  chorus,  diligently  described  inci- 
dents essential  to  the  dramatic  movement.    The 

65 


MAEOON    TALES 

soprano,  unlike  all  others,  remained  in  the 
wings. 

The  Ehos  knew  that  something  had  happened 
when  Runt  began  to  monopolize  the  table-talk. 
Quite  suddenly  the  freshman,  who  had  been 
consistently  reserved  at  dinner,  unless  the  con- 
versation chanced  to  drift  to  topics  immedi- 
ately pertaining  to  a  certain  tattered  football- 
dummy,  or  hockey,  became  strangely  loqua- 
cious. The  day  after  his  first  shy  conference 
with  Pop,  when  one  of  the  fellows  mentioned 
segregation,  Runt  said:  " There  isn't  any 
darned  reason  why  woman's  intellectual  de- 
velopment should  be  different  from  man's. 
Woman  is  man's  equal  if  not  his  peer."  He 
choked  over  peer.  "She  should  also  be  eco- 
nomically dependent — independent — dep " 

Everybody  howled.  The  next  day  at  luncheon 
he  spoke  of  purple  shadows  and  books  in  run- 
ning brooks,  offered  to  point  out  the  differ- 
ence between  a  fir  and  a  spruce,  and  wished, 
rather  awkwardly,  to  know  whether  any  one 
had  noticed  how  Lake  Michigan  seems  to  meet 
the  sky  in  the  middle.  The  influence  of  nature 
study  on  the  Wooded  Island  was  manifest. 

The  fellows  threatened  violence  at  first  and 

66 


THE  WISDOM  OF  HAWKINS 

then  became  extravagantly  polite.  They  en- 
couraged Runt's  slightest  advances;  there  was 
a  certain  fascination  in  guessing  the  subjects 
on  which  he  would  hold  views,  and  a  mighty  sat- 
isfaction in  observing  the  alacrity  with  which  he 
jumped  to  familiar  ground,  all  unwitting  of  the 
fiendish  delight  of  his  friends.  The  Rhos  won- 
dered what  was  wrong,  but  they  had  the  ad- 
vantage of  knowing  that  the  possibilities  were 
limited.  It  was  either  a  sudden  craze  for  knowl- 
edge or  it  was  girl.  The  first  hypothesis  being 
eliminated  as  illogical,  Runt's  offense  was 
plain.  And  the  common  judgment  was  con- 
firmed when  he  admitted  his  condition  to  at 
least  a  dozen  fellows,  enjoining  strict  secrecy 
each  time.  Mansfield  Garrett  Tompkins,  fresh- 
man, crossed  his  fingers  and  promised  not  to 
tell  a  soul. 

In  one  otherwise  uneventful  week  Runt  ex- 
pressed opinions  on  such  a  wide  variety  of 
subjects,  apparently  touching  upon  most  of  the 
obscure  phases  of  thought,  that  Walters  al- 
most feared  the  boy's  mind  would  collapse 
from  the  unwonted  strain.  To  his  sorrow  and 
disgust,  Pop  soon  learned  that  these  flights 
into  the  realm  of  intellect  had  not  destroyed 

67 


MAROON  TALES 

the  more  sentimental  interests.  Runt  drew 
him  aside  and  said,  among  less  important 
things : 

"Pop,  I  think  I  am  a  better  man." 

To  which  Pop  replied,  "H'm,"  as  if  he  was 
not  entirely  convinced.  He  said  also,  "You  're 
not  paying  much  attention  to  your  class  work, 
are  you?" 

"Never  better/ ' 

"I  hear  you  've  been  dodging  football  prac- 
tice.' ' 

"A  little, ' '  Runt  admitted;  "but  there  are 
higher  and  nobler  things  than  athletics.  Miss — 
Miss  Ward  and  I  have  been  working  pretty 
hard  on  our  courses.  I  don't  think  a  fellow 
should  be  satisfied  with  just  the  text-book  and 
the  lectures.  He  should  go  to  the  sources. 
That 's  what  we  're  doing.  I  'm  expecting 
some  A's." 

Walters  was  about  to  cast  doubts  upon  this 
profound  speech,  but  he  only  said  "H'm" 
again.  While  he  had  a  decidedly  different  view 
of  the  case,  he  could  not  use  the  study  argu- 
ment in  the  face  of  that  kind  of  testimony! 
The  interview  was  of  small  value,  for  the  boy 
still  obviously  desired  to  ask  forbidden  ques- 

68 


THE  WISDOM  OF  HAWKINS 

tions.     Bunt    Hawkins    was    actually    embar- 
rassed. 

As  the  freshman  grew  more  confidential,  the 
Ehos,  by  comparing  evidence,  arrived  at  a 
somewhat  amazing  conclusion.  It  was  clear 
that  Editha  Ward  had  undertaken  the  cultiva- 
tion of  Runt's  mind;  and  the  fellows  said  this 
was  a  large  order.  Miss  Ward,  they  found,  had 
begun  systematically.  She  had  chosen  her 
culture  weapons  and  the  points  for  their  appli- 
cation with  very  definite  ideas  of  concentration, 
suburban  transportation  and  entertainment. 
And  according  to  the  location  of  the  civilizing 
zones,  they  were  popularly  recognized  as  the 
City  Center,  the  Midway  Museum  and  the 
Higher  Haunt  of  the  Runt  Reform  Auxiliary. 
The  Higher  Haunt  was  regarded  as  a  distant 
mental  limbo  where  sojourned  the  astral 
forms  of  many  fancies,  ranging  from  Martians 
to  fudge,  and  from  whether  girls  are  truly 
afraid  of  spiders  to  the  probable  aspect  of 
primeval  nothingness.  No  one  pretended  to 
know  the  more  intimate  topography  of  these 
belts  of  influence,  beyond  the  facts  that  the  City 
Center  included  some  unfamiliar  down-town 
places  and  that  the  Midway  Museum  embraced 


MAKOON  TALES 

various  social  and  educational  institutions  on 
the  campus. 

The  Art  Institute  was  among  the  improve- 
ment agencies.  Runt  reported,  in  one  of  his 
nightly  confessions  on  the  foot  of  Pop's  bed, 
that  he  liked  the  lions  in  front  of  the  building, 
and  the  painting  of  a  calf  that  looked  like  the 
real  thing,  and  the  "Laocoon,"  which  reminded 
him  of  the  time  that  he  used  to  pony  through 
high  school  Latin  with  the  foxiest  interlinear 
ever.  He  did  not  think  much  of  the  Old  Master 
women  and  the  beery-looking  men  that  Editha 
raved  over,  such  as  the  "Lady  With  Grouch," 
and  "Man  Having  Tremens,"  though  he  sup- 
posed they  fitted  into  the  pottery  class  very 
nicely. 

There  was  a  special  classic  matinee,  for 
which  he  crammed  with  prodigious  zeal,  only 
to  find,  after  the  performance  and  after  making 
some  well-memorized  remarks  concerning  the 
three  unities  and  the  development  of  the  catas- 
trophe, that  he  had  studied  the  wrong  play. 
And  there  were  some  curio  shops,  from  which 
he  lugged  home  many  strange  and  expensive 
objects,  which  he  raffled  at  a  cent  a  chance ; 
and  some  chamber  music,  which  he  asserted,  in 

70 


THE  WISDOM  OF  HAWKINS 

a  spasm  of  candor,  would  disgrace  any  respec- 
table Glee  Club. 

The  serious  effects  of  these  uplifting  forces 
were  negligible.  And  the  fellows  were  trou- 
bled, not  wholly  because  they  thought  Eunt  was 
going  to  flunk,  but  because  it  is  a  very  bad 
thing  for  a  freshman  to  be  in  love;  it  is  pre- 
sumptuous, and  against  the  wishes  of  the  upper- 
classmen.  So  they  grieved  as  over  a  scientific 
principle  suddenly  gone  wrong;  as  if  parallel 
lines  had  crossed  in  the  night  or  the  cosecant 
had  done  something  flippant.  Pop  scowled, 
as  was  proper  in  one  who  felt  responsible 
for  the  correct  bringing  up  of  a  freshman.  It 
was  getting  on  his  nerves.  He  spent  some  time 
in  wondering  what  to  do. 

The  Rhos  were  oppressed  by  the  feeling  that 
their  rights  in  the  matter  were  scant.  It  is  dif- 
ficult to  tell  a  friend  that  his  dearest  emotions 
displease  you.  The  freshmen  almost  wept  be- 
cause Runt  would  not  play  with  them — he  had 
even  given  up  his  habit  of  coaxing  the  bull-dog 
to  jump  for  his  tail  simultaneously  in  two  di- 
rections. The  sophomores  oozed  contemptuous 
smiles.    The  juniors  were  indignant,  and  said 

71 


MAROON  TALES 

so.     Even  the  seniors   allowed  themselves  to 
become  interested. 

For  the  first  fortnight,  all  were  agreed  upon 
the  extremity  into  which  the  freshman's  un- 
wisdom had  plunged  the  formerly  well-regu- 
lated Rho  family.  Then  some  of  the  fellows 
met  Miss  Ward  at  a  Reynolds  Club  informal 
and  promptly  organized  an  opposition  because 
she  was  cunning.  The  crowd  split.  Bugs  Lan- 
don,  who  remained  neutral,  called  the  factions 
the  Pro-Runtites  and  the  Anti-Runt  it  es,  and 
thought  it  significant  that  the  Antis  were  those 
who  had  not  made  the  acquaintance  of  Editha. 
The  Pros,  recanting  unconditionally,  advanced 
the  proposition  that  man,  being  a  free  moral 
agent,  may  do  as  he  wishes  at  any  time,  regard- 
less of  authority,  a  body  of  doctrine  which  the 
Antis  flatly  controverted  at  every  point. 

"Runt  won't  do  anything  at  all  any  more. 
He  's  all  to  the  bad,"  wailed  Tompkins. 

"I  'd  go  jump  in  the  lake  if  it  affected  me  that 
way.  It  's  pathetic.  Makes  me  sick,"  elo- 
quently observed  Squib  Morris  of  the  sopho- 
more class. 

Said  Red  Wallace:  "This  original  research 
business  is  all  bosh.    I  don't  believe  he  has  a 

72 


THE  WISDOM  OF  HAWKINS 

smell  of  credit  coming  to  him.  She  probably 
likes  to  have  him  run  errands.  And  besides, 
there  's  Dicky  Lee."  Red  had  not  heard  that 
Dicky  Lee  had  dropped  out  after  vain  attempts 
to  secure  half  a  dozen  dances  at  a  Rosalie 
party. 

"Wait  a  while,"  Ted  Larned  advised. 

" Humph!"  ejaculated  a  graduate,  and  those 
present  thoroughly  agreed  with  him,  irre- 
spective of  battle  lines.  For  the  grad.  had 
a  big  reputation  as  a  sage,  based  largely  upon 
the  frequent  use  of  this  monosyllable,  which 
was  susceptible  of  innumerable  inflections  and 
had  been  known  to  swing  elections.  As  usual,  it 
seemed  favorable  to  both  sides.  The  talk  did 
not  amount  to  much. 

Blithesomely  unaware  of  the  wordy  judg- 
ments and  increasing  concern  inspired  by  their 
every  appearance  on  the  campus,  Runt  and 
Editha  continued  to  discuss  tinted  shadows. 
They  went  to  lectures  on  queer  subjects  at  Cobb 
and  Kent  and  to  dances  at  Green  and  at  the 
Reynolds  Club;  and  to  receptions,  where  Runt 
was  fondled  by  faculty  women  who  thought 
him  refreshing. 

And  they  attended  the  games,  which  suited 

73 


MAROON  TALES 

Runt  better.  It  was  great,  he  thought,  to  climb 
up  into  the  bleachers  with  her,  with  that  wild 
football  tingle  shooting  and  trembling  through 
him  and  the  band  playing  for  dear  life  and  the 
pennants  leaping  before  him  in  great,  vivid 
masses  of  color.  Yes,  it  made  up  for  not  being- 
down  there  with  the  fellows  in  the  tightly 
packed  rooters'  section — down  there  as  a  part, 
a  living  part  of  that  huge,  joyous,  shouting 
monster  that  waves  all  its  arms  at  once  and 
shrieks  and  roars  from  its  hundreds  of  hoarse 
throats,  and  quivers  and  bends  and  sways  with 
the  ball,  and  catches  its  breath  in  great  sobs, 
and  sometimes  jumps  to  its  hundreds  of  feet. 
Of  course,  it  made  up  for  that.  So,  you  see, 
something  had  to  be  done. 

"That  young  Mr.  Hawkins  of  yours  should 
really  be  restrained,' '  said  Laura  Fielding  to 
Walters,  as  she  momentarily  stopped  managing 
a  circus  in  Lexington.  "He  's  sitting  up 
there  in  front  with  Editha  Ward,  and  we 
wanted  her  to  serve  frappe  and  pull  the  cur- 
tain. Editha 's  a  dear  little  thing,  but  she  's 
getting  too  independent  for  any  use.  .  I  wish 
you  would  discourage  the  young  man." 

74 


THE  WISDOM  OF  HAWKINS 

"I  'm  afraid  I  can't.  It  's  got  beyond  me," 
said  Pop.  "Freshmen  are  not  what  they  used 
to  be." 

"Then  if  you  feel  you  really  can't,"  mur- 
mured Miss  Fielding,  "I  shall  have  to  ask  Ted 
Larned." 

1  i  On  reconsideration,  I  '11  do  it  myself, ' '  Pop 
assured  her.  "I  '11  break  up  the  combination. 
But  it  may  take  a  few  days." 

Miss  Fielding  darted  away,  leaving  the 
senior  conscious  of  having  bound  himself  to  a 
rather  difficult  task.  An  usher  seated  him 
near  Eunt  and  Editha,  where  he  could  ob- 
serve. Eunt  was  evidently  having  a  fine  time. 
He  applauded  the  first  stunts  rapturously  and 
nearly  fell  off  his  seat  in  his  enjoyment  of 
Mademoiselle  Hortense,  Queen  of  the  Eoped 
Arena,  otherwise  Margaret  Ferriss,  who  per- 
formed amazing  feats  of  daring  upon  the  docile 
back  of  a  stationary  leather  gymnasium 
"horse,"  which  she  mounted  by  means  of  a 
ladder.  Mademoiselle  Hortense  stood  erect 
and  fearless  on  the  steed,  waving  her  arms  and 
bowing  to  the  excited  clapping  of  hands,  while 
Pauline  Winters,  the  ringmaster,  fiercely 
cracked  a  small  whip  in  time  with  the  nerve- 

75 


MAEOON  TALES 

attacking  piano  accompaniment.  Bertha  Mat- 
son  did  black  magic  at  a  table  that  was  veiled 
with  a  tinseled  scarf  and  covered  with  "  proper- 
ties.' '  She  caused  a  glass  of  brownish  water  to 
turn  pure  white  by  mumbling  a  heathen  formula 
and  pouring  something  into  the  glass,  and  she 
did  the  Indian  basket  trick  with  a  cheerful  and 
utter  disregard  of  illusion,  all  of  which  aroused 
deafening  approval.  Another  girl  lifted  thou- 
sand-pound weights  with  comparative  ease,  and 
threw  one  of  them  at  Runt,  who  dodged.  The 
next  girl  complimented  him  with  a  bouquet, 
which  rebounded  on  its  rubber  string  from 
his  outstretched  hands  to  the  stage.  Runt 
looked  foolish,  and  Pop  noticed  that  he  seemed 
to  regard  each  ensuing  number  with  increasing 
alarm.  Neither  the  minstrel  sketch,  with  its 
jokes  about  the  torn-up  campus,  and  the  fac- 
ulty, nor  Miss  Fielding's  patter  song  could 
restore  his  poise  after  the  foolish  weight  and 
the  elusive  flowers. 

Everybody  was  laughing  and  nobody  could 
understand  anything  that  was  said  and  it  was 
delightful.  But  Runt  did  not  applaud,  for  he 
thought  the  patter  song  referred  very  pointedly 
to  him.    And  after  the  show,  one  of  the  girls  in 

76 


THE  WISDOM  OF  HAWKINS 

the  palmistry  booth,  who  said  her  name  was 
Madame  Ino,  insisted  upon  reading  his  hand. 
She  told  him,  after  consulting  a  chart  that 
looked  suspiciously  like  a  map  of  Germany,  that 
he  would  some  day  cross  the  water  with  a  per- 
son whose  initials  were  "E.  W."  He  fled  from 
Madame  Ino  without  paying  his  quarter.  He 
did  not  enjoy  the  rest  of  the  entertainment.  But 
he  was  no  more  disturbed  than  Pop,  for  Miss 
Fielding  reminded  the  senior  of  his  promise  as 
she  sold  him  sticky  candy  for  the  fourth  time. 

It  so  happened  that  Pop  Walters  was  not 
called  upon  to  make  the  first  move.  Eunt  him- 
self did  it.  The  pottery  class  was  responsible. 
He  was  the  only  fellow  in  the  course  and  he 
couldn't  do  the  beastly  stuff,  although  Editha 
helped  him  a  great  deal ;  and  he  knew  the  girls 
giggled  behind  his  back.  The  girls  seemed  to 
think  he  was  quite  a  joke.  One  day  a  visitor 
who  had  a  large  funny-bone,  laughed  outright, 
whereupon  Eunt  marched  from  the  class. 

For  he  had  caught  a  cold,  critical  glimpse  of 
himself  in  that  moment  and  he  was  ashamed 
of  what  he  saw.  He  slammed  the  door  behind 
him — and  blushed.  He  blushed  furiously.  He 
felt  the  burn  of  it  shoot  up  into  his  ears  and 

77 


MAROON    TALES 

scorch  into  each  separate  freckle  and  sweep 
along  his  shoulders  and  sides,  clear  down  his 
legs  and  to  the  ground.  It  was  a  very  vigorous 
and  healthy  blush,  and  it  did  a  thorough  job. 
It  started  a  whole  procession  of  thoughts.  Runt 
had  it  out  with  himself  then,  for  he  thought  he 
might  as  well  decide  a  number  of  things  while 
he  was  about  it.  When  he  had  wrestled  with 
and  thrown  his  pride,  he  went  straight  to  Pop. 

"Pop!"  he  said. 

"Well?" 

"I 'ma  fool." 

"At  last!" 

"I  'm  a  chump." 

"Correct!" 

"I  'm  ignorant." 

"Check!" 

"I  don't  know  a  blooming  thing." 

"What,"  inquired  Pop,  "seems  to  be  troub- 
ling you?" 

"You  know." 

"Miss  Editha  Ward?" 

"Yes,"  gloomily. 

Pop  laughed,  for  he  believed  he  knew  what 
was  wrong.    Runt  went  on : 

"I  'm  too  ignorant  to  live.    If  she  knew  how 

78 


THE  WISDOM  OF  HAWKINS 

I  've  been  faking  and  fooling  her  and  making 
her  believe  I  'm  some  account  when  I  don't 
know  as  much  in  a  minute — in  a  month " 

"Why  don't  you  study  a  little  more!"  asked 
Pop,  remembering  the  City  Center  and  the 
Higher  Haunt. 

"I  do,  but  I  can't  keep  up  with  her.  I  Ve 
worked  all  I  know  to  the  limit.  She  seems  to 
know  everything. ' ' 

"Oh!    You  mean  her  conversation!" 

"Yes." 

"Then  you  still  admire  her  superior  in- 
tellect, do  you?" 

"Yes — well — that  's  what  I  wanted  to  talk 
to  you  about.    Sometimes  I  wish " 

"That  she  were  less  wise  and  more  human f" 

Bunt  played  with  his  pledge-button  and  was 
gallant  enough  to  let  the  question  go  un- 
answered. 

"She  's  awfully  bright,"  he  lamented.  "I 
wish  I  was.  I  hate  to  be  a  regular  mutt.  I 
simply  can't  tell  her  anything." 

Here  was  Pop's  opportunity,  thrust  upon 
him,  staring  him  in  the  face.  He  should  be 
forgiven  for  the  use  made  of  it.  He  planned 
a  mean  trick  on  a  defenseless  freshman,  but  he 

79 


MAROON   TALES 

thought  the  end  was  good  and  holy.  Pop  saw 
his  duty  and  remembered  his  promise,  and  he 
thought  he  would  do  a  high  and  noble  thing 
in  a  rather  underhand  way.    This  is  hard  to  do. 

"Runt,"  he  asked,  "did  you  ever  have  a 
fad!" 

"Yes,  I  used  to  know  a  good  deal  about 
crystal  gazing." 

"Fine!" 

"No,  it  's  not."  Runt  shook  his  head  mourn- 
fully. "You  're  going  to  tell  me  to  teach  her 
all  about  it  and  she  '11  think  me  a  wonder.  I 
tried  it.  She  said  it  was  silly  and  changed  the 
subject.  I  can't  make  a  hit  with  that.  I  even 
went  up  into  the  library  and  tried  to  find  some- 
thing interesting  in  the  index,  but  I  only  got 
part  way  through  the  a's.  I  thought  of  try- 
ing 'Ants:  Their  Habits  and  Customs, '  but  it 
made  me  feel  crawly." 

Pop  broached  his  plan.    He  said : 

"My  idea  is  not  so  much  to  make  a  hit  with 
her  as  to  tire  her  out.  Now  you  scare  up  some 
hobby  and  harp  on  it  for  a  week  or  so  and 
she  '11  see  the  point,  all  right.  She  '11  soon 
realize  how  weary  she  has  been  making  you. 
Don't  let  her  get  a  word  in  edgeways.    See?" 

80 


THE  WISDOM  OF  HAWKINS 

This  was  an  incomplete  disclosure  of  the 
scheme. 

"I  don't  know  whether  I  do  or  not."  Runt 
looked  dubious.  "I  couldn't  talk  five  minutes 
to  save  my  skin." 

11  Yes,  you  can.    You  We  got  to." 

"All  right.  What  do  you  think  I  'd  better 
lecture  about?" 

Pep  hastily  ran  over  a  list  of  subjects.  "The 
Indian  Tribes  of  North  America, "  "  Our  Crim- 
inal Courts,"  "Oliver  Cromwell"  and  some 
others  were  rejected  as  "fierce."  "Egypt:  Its 
Wonders  and  Its  Charm,"  sounded  better. 
Runt  said  he  had  once  been  in  Cairo. 

"Do  you  remember  much  of  it — the  Great 
Pyramid,  for  instance!"  Pop  inquired. 

"Not  so  very  much."  Runt  tried,  with  many 
wrinklings  of  brow,  to  call  up  dead  images. 
"Seems  as  if  it  was  either  red  or  yellow,  or 
maybe  that  was  the  hotel  we  stayed  at." 

"I  can't  see  how  you  could  forget  it,"  ex- 
claimed Pop.  "It  is  so  decidedly  violet.  Surely 
you  recall  the  peculiar  pinkish  and  greenish  ef- 
fects by  moonlight!" 

"I  'm  afraid  I  don't,  but  I  '11  remember." 

Pop    seemed   pleased.     "You   are   now    an 

81 


MAEOON    TALES 

authority  on  mummies,  hieroglyphics  and 
souvenirs, '  *  he  said.  * '  You  are  interested  in  the 
Nile — crazy  about  Ptolemy  the  'Steenth." 

"Do  you  think  this  is  just  right?  Isn't  it  a 
good  deal  like — like  cheating  ?"  faltered  Runt. 

"Do  you  wish  to  go  through  life  with  these 
required  lectures  hounding  you  day  and  night  1 f  9 
Pop  inquired  severely.  "Do  you  desire  to  grow 
old  dissecting  the  whole  horrible  catalogue  of 
*  isms'  and  'ologies'?  Would  you  like  to  be- 
come a  senseless,  spineless  abstraction,  and 
finally  die,  friendless  and  alone,  a  mere  used-up 
scrap  of  gray  matter!    Would  you?" 

"No — o,"  Runt  admitted,  involuntarily  re- 
coiling from  this  vague  but  grewsome  picture. 
"No,  I  wouldn't." 

"Very  well.    Then  I  '11  fix  you  up.    I  '11  write 
you  an  essay  on  Egypt — I  can  use  it  later  i 
English.    I  '11  bring  it  to  you  tonight  and  you 
can  get  busy.    Memorize  it.    Write  it  on  your 
cuff.    Do  anything  with  it,  only  get  it  straight. ' 
"All  right."  And  Runt  had  swallowed  the  bait 

Pop  went  to  the  library,  but  merely  because 
libraries  have  excellent  tables  to  write  on.    H 
composed  a  paper  that  would  have  secured  hi 
enrolment  on  the  probation  list  if  shown  to 

82 


THE  WISDOM  OF  HAWKINS 

member  of  the  faculty;  if  examined  by  an 
alienist,  it  might  have  resulted  in  the  author's 
retention  in  a  sanitarium.  He  did  not  have 
to  refer  to  books,  for  he  felt  the  glow  of  creative 
genius  burning  strong  within  him.  He  con- 
structed a  new  science  of  Egyptology — one  that 
sprang  from  the  clear  pools  of  imagination  and 
airily  overleaped  the  restrictions  of  history. 
He  toyed  familiarly  with  demigods  and  dynas- 
ties, and  invented  royal  persons  whose  names 
bristled  with  consonants.  He  jested  with 
heaven-bands  and  sun-discs  and  cuneiform,  and 
when  he  felt  like  it  he  mentioned  the  Signs  of 
the  Zodiac  and  a  few  heroes  of  the  Trojan  war. 
He  added  some  stilted  notes,  and  gave  a  last 
artistic  touch  by  illustrating  with  original 
seals  and  symbols  and  strange  birds  and  beasts 
that  never  were,  and  for  anatomical  reasons, 
never  were  likely  to  be. 

"If  the  learned  Miss  Ward  ever  speaks  to 
him  after  this,  I  am  a  bum  oracle,"  he  told  him- 
self as  he  handed  the  thing  to  Eunt  the  next 
afternoon.  "I  rather  think  I  have  fixed  him." 
From  which  it  may  be  gathered  that  Pop  imag- 
ined that  clever  freshman  girls  do  not  like 
brainless  freshman  boys. 

83 


MAEOON   TALES 

Over  Pop's  curious  invention  Eunt  spent  a 
grateful  half -hour.    He  was  enthusiastic. 

"I  think  that's  great  stuff,"  he  said.  "I 
seem  to  recall  a  good  deal  of  it  now  from  that 
trip.  I  like  it.  I  tell  you,  I  've  got  a  regular 
life-size  crush  on  it.  I  never  knew  before  that 
the  Pharaoh  who  caused  the  plague  of  grass- 
hoppers was  an  uncle  of  Cleopatra.  And  I  'm 
glad  to  find  out  that  the  ancient  Egyptians  orig- 
inally intended  the  pyramids  for  smoke- 
houses." 

"Don't  get  excited  over  it,"  advised  Pop, 
with  a  twinge  of  conscience.  He  felt  like  telling 
the  whole  thing. 

"It 's  mighty  interesting,  though,"  Eunt  in- 
sisted. "I  'm  going  to  call  on  her  at  Green  to- 
night and  I  almost  think  I  'd  rather  talk  this 
stuff  for  what  it 's  worth  and  give  up  the 
scheme." 

"Give  up  nothing,"  returned  Pop,  hotly. 
"Do  you  want  to  spend  the  rest  of  your  life 
gabbling  about  spooks?" 

"No,  perhaps  you  're  right,"  Eunt  agreed. 
"But  I  'm  going  to  study  it  on  the  sly.  I  like 
those  scarabs  that  they  used  to  frighten  the 

84 


THE  WISDOM  OF  HAWKINS 

Arabs  with."  And  he  plunged  again  into  the 
absorbing  theme. 

1 '  Eemember  to  take  some  notes  on  your  cuff, ' ' 
Pop  reminded  him  as  he  started  for  Green. 

"No,  I  have  it  all  salted  in  my  head,"  laughed 
Eunt;  "I  Ve  got  it  down  pat." 

Pop's  sympathies  rose  again.  He  smothered 
them.  But  as  he  studied  his  modern  philoso- 
phers, the  fortunes  of  the  freshman  intruded 
constantly.  The  spiritual  possessions  of  great 
minds  grew  tiresome.  He  found  himself  sneering 
at  what  the  book  called  the  "epistemological" 
problem,  at  innate  truths,  universal  substance 
and  the  nature  of  objectivity — the  whole  batch 
of  them.  He  wondered  if  Editha  Ward  could 
tell  him  just  what  was  meant  by  the  trans- 
cendental unity  of  the  apperception,  or  if  she 
had  ever  taken  Kant.  He  cast  the  philosophers 
aside  and  meditated  drowsily  upon  his  recent 
labors.  From  disapproving  introspection,  he 
passed  to  tranquil  complacency  and  thence  to 
a  state  of  sleepy  self -beatification.  The  job  was 
rather  heartless,  perhaps — but  he  was  right. 
The  smoke  from  a  good  brier  ascended  and 
floated  in  fragile  halos  to  the  ceiling.  The  saint 
began  to  plan  Bunt's  sophomore  year. 

85 


MAROON  TALES 

But  there  is  no  sense  in  counting  your  fresh- 
men before  they  are  thoroughly  incubated — 
none  whatever.  For  freshmen  are  unique. 
Their  ways  are  devious  and  inexplicable.  Some 
think  them  overgrown  children;  some,  men  not 
quite  matured.  In  either  case,  they  seem  always 
to  be,  by  the  act  of  some  special  guardianship, 
lifted  for  a  time  quite  outside  and  above  the 
known  natural  forces.  It  has  not  been  discov- 
ered whether  this  species  occurred  on  the  pre- 
historic cliffs.  But  probably  it  did,  and  so  it 
may  be  regarded  as  certain  that  the  primitive 
"freshy"  disturbed  the  feelings  of  his  betters 
most  cruelly,  and  that  when  the  professors  sent 
him  tons  of  flunk  notices  on  boulders,  he  soon 
learned  to  toss  them  aside  with  the  same  mag- 
nificent nonchalance  that  accompanies  the  less 
muscular  act  at  the  present  time.  Pop  had  not 
allowed  for  this.  He  was  still  blowing  concen- 
tric halos  when  Runt  arrived. 

"Well!"  from  the  saint. 

"Well,  yourself.' ' 

"Go  ahead.' ' 

Runt  looked  solemn.  "I  don't  see  how  you 
ever  got  me  to  do  that  half-witted  Egyptian 
princess  thing,"  he  flashed  at  Pop,  who  tried  to 

86 


THE  WISDOM  OF  HAWKINS 

appear  bewildered  and  hurt.  "I  might  have 
known  better. ' ' 

"Did  it  work?" 

"It  was  just  common  deceit,"  Runt  declared; 
"mean,  low  deceit." 

"Say,  fresh " 

"I  mean  my  pretending  that  I  knew  it  all." 

"Oh!" 

"I  never  deceived  her  and  I  never  will — that 
is,  I  never  did  very  much, ' '  and,  bashfully,  ' '  I 
don't  believe  I  could  if  I  tried." 

Pop  assumed  the  expression  of  an  instructor 
conducting  an  oral.  "Begin  at  the  beginning 
and  tell  me  the  whole  business,"  he  ordered. 
"I  suppose  the  maid  told  you  to  sit  in  the 
parlor,  and  after  waiting  the  customary  forty- 
seven  hours,  Miss  Ward  came  down.  Now, 
then!" 

"She  said,  'Why,  how  do  you  do,  Mister 
Hawkins.'  " 

"You  needn't  be  so  specific.  Jump  to 
Egypt." 

Runt  accomplished  the  leap  with  expedition. 
"I  began  to  reel  off  Egypt,  and " 

"And " 

"She  seemed  to  think  I  was  loony  or  some- 

87 


MAROON  TALES 

thing,  and  asked  me  whatever  was  wrong  with 
me.  I  kept  right  on  with  the  heaven-bands  and 
things  and  I  got  mixed  up  quite  a  lot  and " 

"Did  you  spring  the  violet  pyramid!" 

"And  she  said  she  spent  the  winter  in  Egypt 
onee,  too,  and  then  I  got  rattled  for  sure  and — 
and  I  stopped." 

"You  what?" 

"Stopped — confessed.  I  told  her  the  truth — 
the  whole  business." 

Pop  braced  himself  and  wondered  if  the  boy 
had  taken  it  very  hard.  He  did  n't  seem  at  all 
pale  and  haggard. 

"You  told  her  you  were  shamming!" 

"Told  her  the  whole  thing." 

"About  me!" 

"You!  Oh,  you  mean  about  your  supplying 
the  hobby !    Of  course  not. ' ' 

"What  did  she  say!" 

"A  lot.  I  '11  tell  you  some  of  it.  She  is  n't 
brainy !"  Runt's  voice  rang  with  a  note  of  vast 
relief.  "Not  a  bit  brainy!  And  she  said  she 
did  n't  blame  me  at  all  for  the— the  trick.  She's 
been  reading  up  a  lot  of  rot  because  she  thought 
I  liked  that  kind  of  thing.  I  did  juggle  some  big 
words  that— that  first  day.     I  was  trying  to 

88 


THE  WISDOM  OF  HAWKINS 

show  off.  We  both  feel  awfully  glad,  now  that 
we  know  how  it  was." 

So  that  was  the  reward  Pop  got  for  his  pains. 
The  fine  fabric  of  his  beautiful  plot  came 
tumbling  down  upon  him. 

Eunt  kept  on  talking.  He  was  wound  up. 
"You  see,  it  was  bound  to  come  out  right,' '  he 
smiled.  "Love,  I  suppose,  overcomes  all 
ob " 

"H'm!" 

Pop  was  holding  himself  in.  He  tried  to  con- 
sole himself  with  the  thought  that  Runt  had 
not  discovered  the  true  origin  of  the  Egyptian 
thesis.  That,  he  felt,  would  be  almost  hu- 
miliating. 

"Pop!" 

"Yes,"  savagely. 

"She  skates — plays  ice-hockey  and  all  that. 
And  tomorrow  she  's  going  to  meet  me  under 
the  clock  in  Cobb." 

Pop  grumbled  something  unintelligible. 

"And  she  gave  me  some  candy  that  she  made 
herself. ' ' 

"They  all  do,"  growled  Pop. 

"It  was  brown  and  white." 

A  groan.    "It  all  is." 

89 


MAEOON    TALES 

"And  Pop  I" 

Walters  moaned  feebly. 

"I  We  got  a  good  one  on  her." 

"Tell  it.    Tell  it  quick!" 

"One  of  the  older  girls — Miss  Fielding — 
came  in  about  ten-thirty  and  hinted  that  it  was 
pretty  late  for  small  girls  to  be  up.  She  asked 
what  time  it  was." 

"That  is  a  good  one — on  her/' 

"And  when  I  said  good  night  to— to  Miss 
Ward,  she " 

"Out  with  it." 

' '  She — she  called  me ' ' 

"Good  Lord!" 

"Called  me — Richard,"  Runt  finished  softly. 

"And  you, ' '  mimicked  Pop,  *  l  you  called  her — 
Editha?" 

"Yes,  and " 

"Is  there  more?" 

"Why,  yes.  I  want  to  thank  you  for  all  the 
trouble  you  took.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  your 
help,  I  'm  afraid  it  would  n  't  have  lasted  much 
longer.  And  I  'm  certainly  glad  you  picked  out 
Egypt,  because  we  got  to  wondering  what  color 
the  Great  Pyramid  really  is,  and  I  told  her  we  'd 

90 


THE  WISDOM  OF  HAWKINS 

go  over  there  some  time  and  take  a  good  look 
at  it  and  find  out  for  ourselves." 

"You  told  her,  did  you!  Did  your  traveling 
plans  meet  with  her  approval?" 

Runt  seemed  surprised.  His  freckles  melted 
together  in  a  beautiful  orange  tint,  and  he 
folded  his  arms  impressively. 

"I  simply  said  we  should  go  and  see,"  he  re- 
plied.   "I  didn't  ask  her." 

"Indeed!" 

But  Pop's  jeering  comment  fell  flat  of  its  own 
impotence.  For  Runt's  voice  was  strong  and 
unshaken,  and  it  stayed  in  the  lower  register, 
without  breaking.  And  there  was  an  undeniable 
authority  in  his  eye,  a  confident,  assertive  glow 
that  never  wavered.  In  silence,  Pop  beheld 
the  miracle.  He  knew  what  it  was.  He  had 
seen  it  before.  And  he  knew  that  he  was  bid- 
ding farewell  to  the  meek  little  boy  who  used  to 
race  after  stamps  and  build  smudgy  fires  in  the 
grate  without  a  word  of  protest  or  an  evil 
thought.  Always  in  the  future  this  different 
Richard  Hawkins  would  murmur  against  his 
brothers  instead  of  fearing  them.  And  he 
would  never  open  his  freshman  heart  again, 

91 


MAEOON   TALES 


for  lie  would  be  sufficient  unto  himself.  It  is 
certain  to  come. 

"  You  'd  better  go  and  get  your  history  lesson 
now,"  advised  Pop,  and  he  was  prepared  for 
the  answer. 

" Don't  you  worry  about  me  any  more,"  said 
Eunt.  "We  're  through  with  the  source-chas- 
ing game,  and  we  're  going  to  study  our  courses 
together  now — all  three  of  'em.  I  'm  going  to 
take  up  the  pottery  again  because  I  need  the 
credit.  D'  you  know,  I  think  it  was  rather 
kiddish  in  me  to  stop  it. ' ' 

"Yes,  it  was,"  said  Pop.  "It  was  almost  boy- 
ish." 

"Say,  she  didn't  get  on  to  anything  queer  in 
those  jumbled-up  dates  and  things,"  continued 
Eunt.  "That 's  pretty  good,  too,  is  n't  it?" 

Pop  wished,  naturally,  to  keep  his  self- 
respect.  He  thought  he  might,  if  he  lied 
enough.    So  he  asked,  as  if  deeply  puzzled: 

1 '  Jumbled  dates  !    What  jumbled  dates  f  \ ' 

"I  mean  I  mixed  'em  all  up  when  I  got 
rattled — before  I  confessed.  Of  course,  I  don't 
suppose  there  was  anything  wrong  with  the 
paper  you  gave  me,  because  you  got  it  all  out 

92 


THE  WISDOM  OF  HAWKINS 

of  the  books  in  the  library.  Here  it  is.  I  don't 
need  it  any  more." 

He  pulled  " Egypt:  Its  Wonders  and  Its 
Charm"  from  his  pocket  and  gave  it  to  its 
author.  Also,  he  smiled;  a  soul-searching, 
twisted,  utterly  incomprehensible  smile  that 
might  have  been  pure  innocence  or  cold,  cal- 
culating wickedness. 

"And  I  want  to  thank  you  again  for  your 
help, ' '  he  added.  * '  Everything  worked  out  just 
as  you  predicted — almost.    Good  night." 

He  turned  and  stalked  grandly  from  the  room 
toward  the  stairs,  shoulders  squared  proudly, 
the  very  tips  of  his  expansive  ears  radiating 
the  strange,  new  dignity  that  enveloped  him. 
He  stopped  at  the  first  landing  and  looked  back, 
and  as  he  looked  he  smiled  again,  then  pro- 
ceeded upward  into  the  shadows. 

Pop  arose  wearily  and  walked  across  to  a 
statuette  on  the  mantelpiece.  He  requested  the 
plaster  gentleman  please  to  kick  him.  But  that 
person,  who  happened  to  be  seated  very  com- 
fortably upon  a  horse,  kept  his  feet  in  the  stir- 
rups and  his  head  cocked  sidewise,  listening, 
no  doubt,  to  the  firm,  determined  tread  of  the 
man  in  the  room  above. 

93 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

V|f  EBSTER  tad  finished  a  normal  college 
and  five  Summer  Quarters  without  los- 
ing either  his  dignity  or  his  given  name,  which 
was  Publius  Virgilius.  He  brought  both  to  the 
Rho  fraternity  house,  where  they  lasted  almost 
a  day. 

He  heard  himself  christened  while  he  was 
rubbing  his  spectacles  near  a  door  that  should 
have  been  closed.  "Do  you  mean  to  tell  me 
his  own  parents  called  him  that?"  came  a  boy's 
voice.  " Shades  of  Dido,  what  an  outrage! 
We  '11  call  him  plain  Horace  or  Cicero  or  some 
other  old  idiot.  Give  me  a  dime,  Tubby. 
Heads,  it  *s  Horace.  Heads  it  is."  There  fol- 
lowed more  comments  of  the  sort  boys  some- 
times make  on  hot  and  foolish  afternoons.  The 
comments  were  not  kind.  Horace  sneaked 
away,  blinking  rapidly. 

Webster  supposed,  erroneously,  that  he  had 
"seen  beneath  the  surface,"  a  consummation 
he  had  held  hopefully  in  mind  when  he  accepted 
Landon's  invitation  to  live  at  the  Rho  house  for 
the  summer.     The  chance  glimpse  fully  con- 


MAEOON  TALES 

firmed  his  previous  belief  that  the  "regular 
students,  especially  the  fraternity  men,  were 
light-hearted,  irreverent,  cheerfully  careless 
young  persons  with  somewhat  heathenish  views 
of  life.  But  the  foolish  remarks  went  deep  into 
him.  They  went  so  deep  that  he  could  not 
get  rid  of  them.  He  rubbed  his  spectacles  many 
times,  and  with  a  clearer  vision,  concluded  that 
the  summer  was  not  entirely  ruined.  He  dis- 
cussed the  matter  at  some  length  with  Miss 
Sarah  Pence  as  they  sat  on  a  bench  on  the  Mid- 
way. 

"It  is  just  what  I  have  wanted  for  years," 
he  said.  "Only  a  few  of  the  members  of  the 
club  are  in  residence,  and  I  am  sure  they  will 
not  mind  my  presence  among  them.  In  fact, 
they  do  not  seem  to  mind  much  of  anything.  I 
really  think  I  shall  grow  young  again  just  liv- 
ing with  them.  * ' 

"Young?"  Miss  Pence  laughed  gayly  and 
pushed  back  her  gray  curls  with  the  swift, 
girlish  movement  that  had  often  impressed 
Webster  as  strikingly  typical  of  her  continually 
alert  mind.  In  any  other  woman  of  her  years 
it  might  have  seemed  ridiculous.  "Young? 
Why,  you  are  only  thirty,  are  you  not?" 

96 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

"  Thirty-one,  and  I  suppose  I  am  taken  for 
forty/ ' 

"No,"  said  Miss  Pence,  "I  think  you  look 
just  thirty,  and  possibly  thirty-five  when  you 
overwork,  as  you  did  last  year.  I  am  forty-eight 
and  I  should  probably  look  ninety  if  I  were  a 
'grind/  as  the  students  say.  When  I  become 
fatigued  I  simply  give  up  part  of  the  lectures 
and  buy  some  extract  of  beef.  It  is  very  in- 
vigorating. ' ' 

Webster  and  Miss  Pence  seldom  spoke  of 
things  so  intimate  and  personal  as  their  ages. 
They  had  considered  many  subjects  on  the  Mid- 
way bench;  but  chiefly  History  and  Sociology 
and  open  lectures,  which  may  be  almost  any- 
thing. As  they  found,  too,  that  the  problems 
of  school  administration  in  Nebraska  and  Ohio 
presented  many  points  of  similarity,  the  an- 
cient Goths  and  the  percentage  of  persons  of 
a  certain  age  and  condition  maimed  and  mangled 
by  dangerous  machinery  had  been  neglected  at 
times  for  the  more  pressing  questions  of  teach- 
ers '  salaries  and  the  lack  of  adequately 
equipped  scientific  laboratories  in  secondary  in- 
stitutions. There  had  been  no  time  for  the  dis- 
cussion of  undergraduate  University  interests. 

97 


MAROON   TALES 

It  takes  exceptional  persons  to  enjoy  that  sort 
of  thing  for  three  summers.  And  Sarah  Pence 
was,  as  Professor  Whitler  of  the  Sociology 
department  observed,  "a  remarkable  little 
woman.' '  She  showed  it  in  her  first  course. 
Setting  her  soft  gray  eyes  to  a  scientific  task, 
she  could  pick  a  "fact"  from  a  page  of  statis- 
tics with  all  the  precision  and  despatch  of  a 
skilled  biologist  over  a  frog;  and  she  could  de- 
liver her  views  to  the  class  in  arguments  as 
clear-cut  as  the  cameo  she  invariably  wore  on 
the  collar  of  her  severely  plain  black  gown. 
"She  is  a  product  of  the  new  education,' '  said 
the  professor,  "and  quite  an  extraordinarily 
brilliant  one." 

Professor  Whitler 's  estimate  of  Webster  was 
confined  to  the  mental  note  that  he  was  not  so 
skilful  as  Miss  Pence  in  constructive  thinking, 
but  fully  as  competent  in  his  grasp  of  the 
human  wants  and  in  the  grouping  of  details, 
and  that  he  was  a  pleasant  enough  fellow  to  talk 
to.  Besides  these  distinctions,  Webster  was 
tall  and  bony  and  had  light  blue  eyes  that  never 
looked  any  darker  at  any  particular  time  and 
light  brown  hair  that  never  combed  well  and  a 
pale  complexion.   A  romantic  and  widely  read 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

young  woman  from  Milwaukee  said  he  prob- 
ably had  a  secret  sorrow. 

Miss  Pence  usually  guided  the  conversa- 
tions on  the  Midway  bench,  but  this  evening 
Webster  was  assuming  this  privilege.  He  had 
deliberately  shifted  to  personal  ground  because 
he  wished  to  know  Miss  Pence's  opinion,  and  he 
did  not  intend  to  be  stopped  by  the  extract  of 
beef  hint. 

"At  any  rate,  I  feel  as  old  as  a  biblical 
patriarch  and  I  know  that  I  am  getting — well, 
rusty."  He  decided  to  strike  in  at  once.  "I 
have  spent  some  time  in  thinking  it  over,  and  I 
have  found  a  remedy." 

"Yes?"  Miss  Pence's  answer  expressed  the 
mildest  of  surprise. 

"I  have  made  up  my  mind,"  he  explained, 
"to  take  a  kind  of  vacation  this  summer. 
Strange  as  it  may  sound,  I  intend  to  have  my 
fling  at  last,  if  only  in  a  harmless  sort  of  way; 
I  suppose  I  'm  not  equal  to  anything  really  dan- 
gerous. I  shall,  as  it  were,  undertake  a  sys- 
tematic piece  of  research  in  '  studentology. '  I 
have  an  excellent  opportunity,  now  that  I  am 
living  with  a  colony  of  youngsters." 

Miss  Pence  smiled. 

99 


MAROON  TALES 

"I  believe  I  shall  try  it,  too.  You  know  I  am 
in  Foster  this  summer.  We  can  compare  notes. 
Have  you  specific  desires,  Mr.  Webster  ?" 

"Not  unless  you  call  downright  irresponsibil- 
ity a  specific  quantity.  For  I  suspect  that  is 
about  what  I  am  after.  I  should  ask  nothing- 
better  than  to  be  one  of  those  young  pagans  who 
lie  on  the  grass  in  front  of  Cobb  and  kick  up 
their  heels  while  we  are  inside  digging  for  our 
forty  dollars '  worth  of  education.  I  should  like  to 
transform  myself  into  one  of  those  Rho 
boys  or  one  of  their  happy-go-lucky  classmates, 
and  sprawl  out  alongside  of  them  and  stretch 
myself  and  not  care  whether  it  was  morning  or 
night.  They  are  all  more  or  less  alike,  I  fancy. 
That  's  just  it.  I  fancy!  I  want  to  know!.  I 
intend  to  try  their  style  of  existence  for  a  while. 

"And  not  only  that,  Miss  Pence,"  he  rushed 
on;  "I  must  confess  that  I  feel  the  need  of 
friends — young  friends.  Why,  I  doubt  if  I  have 
enough  of  them  to  bury  me.  That  is  where  I 
feel  a  weakness  in  Professor  Whitler's  list  of 
essentials.  I  sometimes  think  that  sociability 
should  come  first — that  I  could  do  without  food 
and  clothes  if  I  only  had  some  one  to  call  me 
names. 

100 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

"Do  you  know,  I  'm  sick  of  myself — deathly 
sick  of  what  I  am  doing.' '  Webster  faced  Miss 
Pence's  politely  astonished  gaze  without  noting 
the  puzzled  question  in  the  gray  eyes.  His 
thin  face  flushed  as  he  went  on  passionately: 
"I  'm  sick  of  teaching  in  a  third-rate  high 
school  in  a  third-rate  town  and  lecturing  on  spe- 
cial occasions  at  a  third-rate  opera-house  on 
things  I  've  read  were  true,  and  then  coming 
here  every  so  often  to  swallow  some  more  learn- 
ing so  that  I  can  hold  my  job.  I  don't  feel  any 
ground  under  me.  I  slid  into  teaching,  and  now 
I  'm  sliding  through  college  at  the  rate  of  a 
Quarter  a  year  and  a  couple  of  correspondence 
majors.  It  strikes  me  as  absurd.  Heaven  only 
knows  what  I  ever  intended  to  make  of  myself. 
I  think  it  is  time  to  seek  new  fields.  That  's  why 
I  want  to  break  loose." 

Miss  Pence's  judgment  of  the  timeliness  and 
good  taste  of  Webster's  unexpected  outburst 
had  not  in  the  least  interfered  with  her  swift, 
impersonal  analysis  of  it.  Amusement  and  then 
surprise  had  given  place  to  a  rapid,  emotionless 
survey  of  the  new  "facts"  placed  before  her. 
True  to  her  habit  of  mind,  she  sorted  and  tagged 
these  and  comprehended  them  ail  in  her 'reply; 

101 


MAROON  TALES 


which,  if  written  on  official  theme  paper,  might 
have  passed  as  one  of  her  characteristic  lecture 
reviews,  with  concise  summary  and  suggestions 
for  further  elaboration  appended. 

' '  Your  complaint  and  your  cure  are  some- 
what involved,"  she  said.  "You  feel  that  you 
are  '  rusty, '  that  you  lack  agreeable  companions 
and  that  your  present  environment  and  pros- 
pects are  monotonous  and  unworthy.  You  pur- 
pose to  change  these  conditions  by  assuming  or 
acquiring  an  attitude  of  recklessness — a  q  lality 
you  admire  in  certain  young  men.  Admitting 
the  accuracy  of  your  diagnosis,  are  you  satis- 
fied that  you  thoroughly  understand  the  impli- 
cations of  the  remedy,  that  you  have  chosen  the 
right  models,  that  you  would  enjoy  such  a, 
change,  and  that  it  would  be  possible ;  and  if  so, 
that  the  result  would  be  dignified,  would  provide 
you  with  a  more  pleasant  means  of  livelihood 
and  would  not  interfere  with  the  three  o'clock 
seminar  V 

The  whole  thing  was  so  like  the  recitations 
she  clicked  off  in  class,  and  the  last  rather 
trivial :  consideration  was  such  a  delicate  and 
unconscious  concession  to  her  horror  of  cut- 
'■t/sjsj:— ?a  mortal  sin — that  Webster  laughed.  And 

102 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

Miss  Pence,  because  she  was  not  quite  certain 
whether  Webster  was  so  serious  as  he  seemed, 
laughed,  too.    Then  they  both  felt  better. 

1 '  There ! ' '  Webster  exclaimed.  i *  My  new  per- 
sonality already  begins  to  assert  itself.  I  am 
becoming  frivolous.' ' 

"I  fear  so,"  Miss  Pence  assented.  "But  do 
you  not  think  you  do  yourself  an  injustice  1  Do 
you  believe  others  consider  you  so — so  archaic 
as  you  imagine V  It  was  Miss  Pence's  rule 
never  to  dismiss  an  argument  without  arriving 
at  a  conclusion.  She  regarded  the  rule  as  very 
helpful.  She  thought  it  "so  educating,"  a  de- 
scription she  was  accustomed  to  apply  broadly 
to  many  things. 

"Yes,  those  boys  at  the  house  regard  me  as 
a  curiosity,"  Webster  answered.  "I  happened 
to  overhear  a  very  frank  statement  of  their 
views  only  this  morning.  I  learned,  within  a 
minute,  that  I  was  a  ' prehistoric  relic,'  'a  seeker 
after  knowledge' — evidently  an  opprobrious 
epithet — that  I  would  make  'a  good  watchdog' 
■ — the  other  one,  whose  name  seems  to  be  Bill,  is 
summering  at  Atlantic  City — that  I  had  'no  bad 
habits' — another  damning  bit  of  evidence — and 
that  I  would  lend  an  'air  of  respectability'  to 

103 


MAROON    TALES 


'the  roost '  if  a  professor  should  happen  to  call. 
I  learned  also  that  my  hat  was  *  really  very 
good'  and " 


& 


"Are  these  boys  gentlemen,  Mr.  Webster V9 

"I  am  sure  they  are.  They  were  simply  in- 
dulging in  a  little  extravagant  foolery.  They 
would  not  have  hurt  my  feelings  for  the  world, 
and  they  had  every  reason  to  think  that  I  was 
out — I  had  returned  to  get  a  notebook.  But  I 
have  not  told  you  the  most  important  thing.  I 
have  been  renamed.  I  am  now  to  be  known  as 
Horace.  One  of  the  boys  said  my  'official  ap- 
pellation jarred  on  him,'  and  I  heartily  sym- 
pathize with  him.  I  often  wondered  how  I  came 
to  be  called  Publius  Virgilius.  It  's  ridiculous. 
No  one  ever  thought  of  calling  me  Virgil  or 
'Pubby'  or  'Gilly'— just  Publius.  Think  of  it, 
—Publius!" 

"I  am  a  trifle  hazy  on  the  Latin  poets,  but  if  I 
remember  correctly,  Horace  was  not  intolerant 
of  the  lesser  vices/ 9  said  Miss  Pence.  "The 
name  seems  singularly  appropriate,  in  view  of 
your  sudden  desire  to  have  'your  fling. '  " 

"Yes,  perhaps  it  is,  and  I  have  about  decided 
to  live  up  to  it."  Webster  drew  a  small  dark- 
stained  volume  from  his  pocket.    "Here  is  my 

104 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

new  character  set  down  in  iambic  measures, 
very  heroically.  It  is  an  old  translation  of  the 
Odes." 

"It  looks  innocent  enough/ '  Miss  Pence  re- 
marked. 

"Let  me  recite  you  some  of  my  verse,  and 
pardon  me  if  I  am  obliged  to  refer  to — to  my 
manuscript. ' '  Webster  thumbed  the  yellow 
pages  and  began  to  read : 

" 'O  Bacchus!   when  by  thee  possess'd, 
What  hallow'd  spirit  fills  my  raving  breast? 
How  am  I  rapp'd  to  dreary  glades, 
To  gloomy  caverns,  unfrequented  shades.' " 

"Dear  me!"  said  Miss  Pence.    "Proceed." 

"  'Now  let  the  bowl  with  wine  be  crown'd, 
Now  lighter  dance  the  mazy  round; 
And  let  the  sacred  couch  be  stored 
With  the  rich  dainties  of  a  Salian  board.' 

And  here  's  another. 

'But  joyous  fill  the  polish'd  bowl; 
With  wine  oblivious  cheer  thy  soul, 
And  from  the  breathing  phials  pour 
Of    essenced    sweets    a    larger    shower.' " 

"Good  gracious,  Mr.  Webster.  I  had  no  idea 
they    were    so — so    alcoholic."     Miss    Pence 

105 


MAKOON  TALES 


glanced  at  the  small  silver  watch  at  her  belt. 
"It  is  time  for  me  to  go  to  the  opening  recep- 
tion.   You  may  read  if  you  wish. ' ' 

The  two,  strolling  very  slowly  across  the  vel- 
vet of  the  Midway,  arrived  at  the  reception 
rather  late.  The  one  to  blame  was  Quintus 
Horatius  Flaccus  of  Venusia  and  Rome. 


J06 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 


II 


Able  authorities  tell  us  that  there  is  a  marked 
similarity  between  a  student's  activities  within 
and  without  the  classroom,  a  generalization 
which  seems  reasonable.  Webster  possessed 
large  powers  of  application.  Probably  that  was 
why  he  was  so  diligent  in  his  new  line  of  re- 
search that  he  missed  some  interesting  points  in 
the  seminar.  He  started  with  a  glass  of  sour, 
pink  stuff,  a  bag  of  peanuts  and  the  book  of 
verse,  and  after  several  daily  experiments, 
found  himself  in  his  room  with  the  desire  for 
about  a  barrel  of  water,  and  a  most  annoying 
feeling  somewhere  inside  of  him.  He  did  it 
alone,  partly  because  he  wanted  to  get  used  to 
it  and  partly  to  impress  the  Ehos,  who  seemed 
to  think  he  was  above  such  things,  and  did  not 
invite  him  on  their  little  excursions.  He  thought 
the  boys  must  see  that  he  was  not  that  kind. 
But  they  did  n  't.  When  they  happened  to  think 
of  him  at  all,  they  wondered  where  on  earth  he 
studied  so  late  at  night ;  they  were  amused  when 
they  learned  the  facts  from  Dan  Freeman. 

"You  're  a  lovely  bunch  of  grinds,  you  are," 

107 


MAROON  TALES 


jeered  Freeman,  dropping  into  the  Rho  house 
on  Thursday  afternoon  and  finding  four  of  the 
fellows  preparing  for  a  Friday  quiz.  "I  know 
how  you  love  your  dear  lessons,  but  you  '11 
have  to  desist  for  the  present.  It  makes  me 
nervous.' ' 

As  Freeman's  only  worldly  cares  consisted  in 
driving  a  huge  red  motor-car  at  a  speed  that 
was  intended  to  astonish  pedestrians  and 
foil  greedy  suburban  policemen,  producing 
loud  and  irritating  noises  whenever  and  wher- 
ever possible,  and  making  the  rounds  of  the  fra- 
ternity houses  for  the  express  purpose  of  guy- 
ing such  unfortunates  as  were  compelled  to 
waste  the  summer  months  in  the  loathsome  pur- 
suit of  knowledge,  he  was  promptly  told  to  sit 
down  and  be  decent,  or  get  out.  Pink  Hollister, 
who  said  he  was  trying  to  reduce  a  page  of 
sophomore  Psychology  to  "straight  talk,"  de- 
livered this  ungracious  greeting,  and  received 
the  fervent  thanks  of  Tubby  Crandall  and 
Sub-freshman  Tompkins,  who  were  killing  flies 
at  intervals  in  their  intellectual  employment. 
Ted  Larned,  stretched  on  the  floor,  grunted  his 
approval.  Ted  was  reading  a  letter  from  Bugs 
Landon  about  the  delightfully  cool  breezes  of 

108 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

the  northern  lakes,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  be 
further  annoyed,  even  by  the  privileged  Free- 
man. 

" Don't  be  grouchy,  Pink,"  the  visitor  airily 
admonished;  "always  be  civil  to  company." 

"You  're  not  company,  Danny.  "You  're — " 
Pink  referred  to  the  psychology  page — "you  're 
an  involuntary  sensation,  like  the  sharp  bark 
of  a  dog  close  at  hand  or  the  heavy  slamming  of 
a  door." 

Freeman  immediately  banged  the  door, 
barked  like  a  dog  and  sat  down  on  Larned's 
chest,  from  which  position  he  was  instantly 
rolled  by  the  big  football  player. 

"Say,  where  's  Webster?"  he  asked  as  he 
picked  himself  up.  "I  remember  now,  that  's 
what  I  came  for — to  see  if  he  had  recovered." 

Pink  closed  his  text-book,  just  as  he  had 
known  he  would  when  he  heard  Freeman's  car 
buzzing  up  to  the  door.  "Why,  he  's  not  sick. 
Gone  out  to  buy  peppermint  drops.  Do  you 
know  him!"  The  psychology  treatise  slid 
neglected  to  the  floor. 

"Of  course  I  do.  We  're  quite  chummy.  I 
met  him  last  night  at  the  *  Students'  Rest'.  He 
was  leading  the  orchestra  with  a  beer  bottle  in 

109 


MAROON  TALES 

one  hand  and  a  plate  in  the  other  when  I  first 
saw  him." 

"Case  of  mistaken  identity.  You  have  spot- 
ted the  wrong  Mr.  Webster,  Danny. ' ' 

"Oh,  I  guess  not.  I  brought  him  here  in  my 
car  early  this  morning — dead  to  the  world. '  * 

The  four  grinds  sat  up  straight  and  asked 
questions. 

"Do  you  depose  and  state,  Freeman,  that 
Horace  was  in  the  condition  vulgarly  known  as 
stewed?"  asked  Larned. 

"Pie-eyed?"  gasped  Pink. 

"Sp— spifflicated?"   stuttered  Tubby, 
you  m — mean  he  was  p — pickled?" 

"I  doeth,"  affirmed  Freeman.  "But  don't 
blame  me.  I  was  only  showing  the  sights  to 
some  wild-eyed  cousins.  I  didn't  corrupt  him. 
I  would  tell  you  about  it  if  you  hadn't  treated 
me  so  disrespectfully."  He  refused  to  begin 
until  Tubby  apologized  for  any  and  all  annoy- 
ances to  which  he  had  or  had  not  been  subjected 
"Very  well,  then.  Gather  round,  scandal- 
mongers, and  remember  that  for  once  I  'm  not 
blabbing  just  to  hear  myself." 

"Certainly  not,"  Pink  assured  him.  "We 
never  thought  of  such  a  thing." 

no 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

"Well,  as  I  said,  I  was  giving  Clarence  and 
Percival  a  glimpse  of  our  so-called  Bohemia, 
and  they  thought  it  was  simply  grand.  I  did  n't 
see  a  chance  of  any  excitement  until  Webster 
began  to  get  boisterous.  He  was  sitting  at  the 
table  next  to  us,  all  alone,  drinking  domestic 
champagne  and  trying  to  eat  a  lobster  with  a 
spoon.  All  of  a  sudden  he  commenced  rolling 
his  eyes  and  then  he  jumped  up  on  a  chair  and 
tried  the  musical  director  stunt/ ' 

"W — with  v — vine  1 — 1 — leaves  in  his 
h — hair,"  chuckled  Tubby,  quite  missing  the 
tragic  gulp  of  the  Ibsen  lady  from  whom  he 
had  heard  the  expression. 

"He  happened  to  spill  a  lot  of  his  wine  all 
over  a  richly  upholstered  dame  and  that  started 
the  trouble,"  laughed  Freeman.  "The  dame 
screamed  for  help  and  it  took  six  waiters  to  mop 
the  stuff  off  her  face  and  hat  and  get  Webster 
into  his  seat.  It 's  a  wonder  they  didn't  call 
the  wagon,  but  the  dame  said  she  didn't  want 
the  old  sport  pinched,  and  they  let  him  stay. 

"He  was  just  beginning  to  get  quieted  down 
when  he  saw  me  and  dragged  his  chair  over  to 
our  table.  He  told  me  that  he  lived  here  and 
said  he  knew  me — must  have  seen  me  here  the 

in 


MAROON  TALES 

other  day.  It  's  lucky  he  told  me,  because  he  gol 
silly  right  away  and  never  said  another  san( 
word.    He  called  a  waiter  and  ordered  a  lot  oi 
vile  stuff  for  us  to  drink  before  we  could  sto] 
him.     Then  he  began  to  get  off  some  of  th( 
sloppiest  drivel  I  ever  heard.     He  recited 
bunch  of  poetry  and  said  he  was  the  author  oj 
it.    Said  he  was  Horace  and  I  was  Maecenas 
and     Percival    was     Augustus     Caesar     and 
Clarence  was  somebody  else.    Claimed  he  knew 
all  of  the  chorus  ladies  in  the  place — called  'em 
Lydia  and  Pyrrha  and  Glycera  and  Chloe  and 
so  on — regular  Latin  3  dope.    All  about  the 
'gul — orious  days  of  Rome'  and  'fill  the  flowing 
bowl.'    It  got  entirely  too  loud  for  me — every- 
body was  looking  at  us,  and  you  know  how  mod- 
est I  am.   I  paid  the  bill  and  sprinted,  and  we 
pulled  the  poet  out  with  us." 

" Listen  to  that,  young  fellow,"  Lamed  ac- 
cused Mansfield  Garrett  Tompkins.  "You 
named  him  Horace  the  other  day — remember  V9 

"Gee  whiz!"  said  Mansfield  Garrett.  "Do 
you  suppose  he  heard  me?" 

1 '  No,  he  was  out  of  the  house  at  the  time.  You 
just  happened  to  hit  it.  He  teaches  the  Horace 
thing.    See,  here's  the  pony  he  rides."    Pink 

112 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

held  up  the  book  he  had  found  in  the  hall.  ' *  He 
must  have  gone  regularly  dotty  over  it." 

"Whatever  the  complicated  motives  may  be, 
he  did  it  fine,"  said  Freeman.  "But  he  whis- 
pered to  me  once  behind  his  hand  that  his  name 
wasn't  really  Horace,  but  Webster.  Said  he 
was  only  pretending.  On  the  way  home  he  got 
off  something  about  wanting  to  show  people 
that  he  was  a  good  sort,  and  could  spend  his 
money.  Said  I  was  the  only  friend  he  had  on 
'earsh'.  I  thought  for  a  minute  that  he  might 
be  talking  sense,  but  he  went  to  sleep  then  and 
we  had  to  carry  him  upstairs.  The  Lord  only 
knows  where  he'd  be  now  if  I  hadn't  snatched 
him  from  the  rum  demon." 

"He  'd  be  in  the  g — g — gutter,  where  all 
w — wine-bibbers  g — go  to,"  said  Tubby,  pos- 
itively.   "W — wonder  where  he  is  now?" 

As  if  in  answer  to  the  question,  Webster  en- 
tered by  the  hall  door  and  started  upstairs  to 
his  room.  He  had  slipped  in  quietly,  as  he 
always  did. 

"Come  on  in,"  Larned  called  to  him  heartily. 
"We  're  having  a  talk-fest.  I  believe  you  know 
Freeman,  don't  you,  Webster?" 

"I  think  I  saw  you  here  the  other  day,  Mr. 

113 


MAEOON  TALES 

Freeman, ' '  said  Webster.  "I  'm  very  glad  to 
know  you."  There  was  no  recognition  of  the 
more  intimate  meeting  of  the  night  before,  either 
in  his  formal  handshake  or  his  glance.  Free- 
man, prepared  to  be  cordial,  wondered  whether 
this  was  because  Webster  wished  absolutely  to 
overlook  the  incident  of  the  ' Students'  Best,'  o 
because  he  did  not  care  to  mention  it  in  a  co 
pany.  The  others,  noting  the  omission,  ceremo 
niously  asked  him  to  be  seated  and  forgo 
to  talk.  Something  in  the  man's  appearance 
and  manner  made  the  stock  remarks  about  head 
ache  and  repentance  seem  out  of  place.  For  h( 
was  very  pale — paler  than  ever,  and  his  eyes 
were  sunken.  He  looked  ill  and  tired.  A  ne^ 
hat  of  an  exaggerated  pattern  much  affected  bj 
Tubby  Crandall,  a  new  waistcoat  of  painfull 
clashing  shades  of  red  and  tan,  a  loud  yellow 
necktie  and  a  fancy  handkerchief  flowing  gayly 
from  his  breast  pocket,  were  strikingly  incon- 
gruous. 

"It 's  damned  hot,  and  don't  you  forget  it,' 
he  spoke  up,  fanning  himself  with  the  fancy 
handkerchief.    "Dammit,  I  am  thoroughly  ex 
hausted." 

114 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

"It  certainly  is  warm,"  Lamed  assented,  in 
a  surprised  tone. 

"You  bet,  dammit."  And  Webster  supple- 
mented the  remark  with  a  string  of  labored  and 
self-conscious  profanity  that  surprised  Larned 
still  more  and  caused  Tubby  and  Pink  to  ex- 
change solemn  winks.  The  words  he  used  were 
not  very  shocking,  and  he  spoke  them  without 
the  least  emotion,  as  if  he  had  been  reciting 
a  lesson  in  a  language  that  he  did  not  under- 
stand. 

"I  was  out  pretty  late  last  night,"  he  contin- 
ued. "Something  doing.  I  think  somebody 
must  have  brought  me  home." 

Freeman  began  to  understand.  So  the  fellow 
had  really  been  so  drunk  that  he  could  not  re- 
member ! 

"Is    that    so?"    Larned    said    indifferently. 

"Yes,  I  'm  going  out  again  tonight.  Damned 
dull  around  here.  I  wish  you  fellows  would 
come  along,"  and  he  used  more  unnecessary 
words.  "We  can  have  a  swell  time — a  little 
liquor,  eh,  Mr.  Larned?" 

"Thanks,  Webster,  but  I  can't  go.  I  have 
some  studying  to  do.  I  'm  making  up  a  lot  of 
work  just  now,"  Ted  answered. 

115 


MABOON  TALES 

Webster  laughed,  implying  clearly  that  he  did 
not  believe  Larned.  i '  Oh,  I  guess  you  '11  come, ' ' 
he  said.  "I  Ve  got  the  coin.  You  other  fellows 
come,  too.  A  little  refreshment,  eh,  boys?" 

"I  don't  drink,  Webster,  and  neither  does 
Tompkins,"  replied  Larned.  "And  Hollister 
and  Crandall  have  some  cramming  to  keep  them 
busy."  Pink  and  Tubby  glanced  at  Ted  curi- 
ously.   They  felt  able  to  answer  for  themselves. 

"How  about  you,  Mr.  Freeman?"  Webster 
insisted. 

"I  have  to  stay  at  home  with  some  cousins  of 
mine.  They  never  go  out — regular  stay-at- 
homes     are    Augustus     and "      Freeman 

stopped  abruptly  at  a  frowning  signal  from 
Larned. 

"Oh,  all  right.  We  '11  go  some  other  time. 
I  thought  maybe  you  would.  I  'm  going  out  to 
get  some  fresh  air  now.  It  's  too  damned  hot 
in  here,  dammit. ' '  Webster  put  on  his  new  hat 
and  walked  unsteadily  across  the  room  to  the 
door,  whistling.  He  paused  there  and  looked 
back;  the  china-blue  eyes  were  pathetic. 

<  \  Wait  a  second,  Webster, ' '  Ted  called.  "  I  '11 
tell  you  how  we  can  fix  it  up.  You  roll  back  here 
about  ten  o  'clock  when  we  Ve  done  digging  and 

116 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

we  '11  all  go  out  together  and  cut  up  a  little. 
And  I  want  you  to  go  somewhere  with  me  in 
the  morning — over  to  the  University  Settle- 
ment.   Will  you?" 

"Yes,  I  will.  I  '11  be  back  then."  Webster 
left,  and  the  grinds  found  their  tongues. 

"W— well,  I  '11  be  fl— flimflammed, "  panted 
Tubby.  i  i  H — harmless  H — Horace,  the  'orrible 
ex — example ! ' ' 

"He  certainly  has  changed  for  the  better," 
tittered  Mansfield  Garrett  Tompkins. 

"Am  I  a  liar  or  am  I  not!"  asked  Freeman. 

"What  's  the  matter  with  you,  Ted?"  de- 
manded Pink.  "Tubby  and  I  were  just  going 
to  take  him  up  on  the  bright  light  proposition. 
What  made  you  butt  in?" 

"Nothing  's  the  matter  with  me,"  said 
Larned,  quietly.  "And  I  don't  think  I  spoiled 
anything.    Think  it  over.    It  may  grow  on  you. ' ' 

Ted  lighted  his  pipe,  crossed  his  legs  and 
looked  at  the  ceiling.  His  attitude  suggested 
perfect  peace,  but  his  brothers  knew  that  he 
was  not  so  calm  as  he  looked  and  that  presently 
he  would  "open  up." 

"What  has  wrought  these  wonders?"  piped 

117 


MAROON    TALES 


Tompkins.  "He  was  scared  of  himself  the  first 
day." 

Pink's  reply  was  unexpected.  He  returned, 
oracularly : 

"  'When  vine-crown'd  Bacchus  leads  the  way, 
What  can  his  daring  votaries  dismay?' 

You  see,"  he  explained,  exhibiting  the  yel- 
low-backed book,  "Horace  the  Second  is  follow- 
ing the  teachings  of  Horace  the  First.  Very 
simple. ' ' 

"He  certainly  made  a  holy  show  of  himself, 
didn't  he?"  Freeman  remarked.  "It  was  a 
shame. ' ' 

' '  Oh,  wake  up, ' '  rejoined  Pink.    ' '  And 

'While   we   lie   with   roses   crown'd, 
Let  the  cheerful  bowl  go  round.' 

Only  there  won't  be  any  bowl  for  us.     But 
don't  care. 

'I  tell  thee,   boy,  that  I   detest 
The  grandeur  of  a  Persian  feast.' 

So  do  I,  but  I  don't  think  much  of  that  rhyme." 
"Neither  do  I,"  complained  Tompkins.     "I 
wish  you  'd  stop  reading  that  trash."    He  be- 
ns 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

gan  throwing  pillows,  which  Pink  warded  off 
with  his  feet,  replying  glibly : 

"'Here  bid  this  impious  clamour  cease, 
And  press  the  social  couch  in  peace. 

'For  Thracianlike  I'll  drink  to  day 
And  deeply  Bacchus  it  away.' 

My,  what  an  old  soak  he  was.  Pretty  good  sense 
sometimes,  too.    Oh,  listen: 

'Tear  from  the  bursting  glebe  the'  uprooted  tree.' 

What 's  a  glebe,  Danny?    I  wonder  if  Webster 
tears    from    the    bursting    tree    the    uprooted 


glebe. ' ' 


"Is  that  all  you  wonder  about  him,  Pink?" 
Larned  stopped  looking  at  the  wall  and  un- 
crossed his  legs. 

"Oh,  my,  no!"  cried  Hollister.  "I  wonder 
why  somebody  does  n't  poison  him." 

"I  don't  suppose  it  ever  occurred  to  you  that 
people  besides  yourself  and  Tubby  have  any 
feelings  of  their  own?" 

"I  really  can't  say.  But  I  know  there  's  a 
fellow  in  my  nine  o'clock  that  has  n't  any.  He 
parts  his  hair  down  the  back  and  has  to  blow 
his  whiskers  out  of  the  way  before  he  can  talk." 

119 


MABOON  TALKS 

Pink  illustrated  by  puffing  down  his  chin  an 
performing  elementary  swimming  motions  wit 
his  arms. 

"That *s  about  the  kind  of  character  sketc 
you  hear  a  good  deal  of  in  college.' 9  Larned 
had  not  shouted  with  the  rest,  and  his  tone  was 
so  serious  that  even  Freeman  gave  attention. 
"Laugh  at  everybody.  Laugh  at  everything. 
Laugh  at  yourself.  I  don't  mean  you,  Pink,  but 
all  of  us.  It 's  the  sort  of  thing  Webster  expects 
The  man  has  decider!  that  we  are  a  bunch  of 
padded-cell  candidates  and  tin-horn  booze  art- 
ists, I  '11  bet  you.  And  he  \s  out  to  act  the  sam 
part.  You  may  think  I  'm  crazy,  but  that  ' 
got  something  to  do  with  the  way  he  fn  in  akin 
such  a  fool  of  himself  right  now.  And  I  don' 
like  to  see  him  treated  like  a  dime  museu 
freak  just  because  he  drew  a  few  hasty  conclu 
sions." 

"This  is  your  doing,  Tubby,"  Pink  broke;  in. 
"Horace  is  imitating  you." 

"W— what  m— makes   him  do  t— t— that!" 

Tubby 's question  was  so  innocently  suggestive 
of  the  foolishness  of  such  a  procedure  that  Ted 
miled. 

"That,  Tubby,"  be  said,  "is  just  what  I  'm 

120 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

getting  at  in  my  own  feeble  way.  Do  you 
suppose  it  could  possibly  be  because  he  's  trying 
to  be  sociable?  Do  you  suppose  he  ever  gets  lone- 
some, or  that  he  just  wants  to  be  treated  like  a 
nice  marble  statue?  Oh,  I  know  he  *s  been 
treated  decently  here — much  better  than  he 
would  have  been  at  some  places  I  know  of. 
We  've  all  been  very  polite  to  him,  but  I  can 
conceive  of  times  when  that  would  get  pretty 
flat.    Don't  you  see  that M 

"Sure,"  Pink  nodded;  "I  see  the  whole 
thing.  Lonely  old  sheep  among  sportive  young 
lambs.  Lonely  old  sheep  over-sportives  him- 
self.   Lambs  feel  awful  bad." 

"Didn't  you  see  how  he  looked  when  we 
turned  him  down  just  now?"  Larned  asked. 
"He  was  hurt — hurt  clear  through.  That  9h  why 
I  asked  him  to  go  along  with  us  tonight — and  to 
go  to  the  Settlement  with  me.  I  know  what  he 
needs.  And  I  know  he  hasn't  any  money. 
That  's  why  I  declined  your  supper-party  invi- 
tation for  you,  Pink.  We  '11  have  a  little  some- 
thing anyway — on  your  uncle  Teddy,  and  we  'II 
get  Webster  to  bed  early.  And  you  '11  all  go 
along  and  act  right.    You  know  what  I  mean." 

Pink  nodded  sagely* 

121 


MAEOON  TALES 

1  *  Sportive  young  lambs  organize  ready  relie 
expedition  for  over-sportive  old  sheep.    We  '1 
all  be  there,  Ted.     I  'd  just  as  soon  be  a  re 
former  for  a  few  minutes.    But  don't  look  so 
blooming  fierce  about  it.    Just 

'Mix    a    short    folly  with    thy    labour'd    schemes; 
'T  is  joyous   folly   that  unbends  the   mind.' " 


122 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 


III 


"I  believe,"  said  Miss  Pence,  as  she  seated 
herself  on  the  Midway  bench,  "that  we  agreed 
to  compare  notes  in  i  studentology. '  We  have 
had  just  a  week  in  which  to  gather  data." 

"Just  a  week,  I  think." 

Webster's  reply  lacked  enthusiasm.  He  was 
not  certain  that  he  wished  to  reopen  the  subject. 
For  while  it  would  afford  him  a  dignified  oppor- 
tunity to  account  for  his  absence — he  had  been 
trying  to  think  of  a  plausible  answer  to  Miss 
Pence's  inevitable  inquiry  about  his  cutting — 
he  was  uncomfortably  conscious  that  several 
important  episodes  would  have  to  be  omitted. 

"Have  you  tried  your  new  remedy  for  'Hasti- 
ness,' and  is  it  a  success?" 

"I  'd  forgotten  that  I  used  such  striking  sym- 
bols," Webster  said  hastily.  "I  fancy  that  my 
talk  the  other  day  was  rather  trivial,  after  all — 
not  worth  checking  up.  I  should  much  prefer  to 
tell  you  about  a  most  unique  trip  I  took  last  Fri- 
day." 

But  Miss  Pence  had  no  intention  of  interest- 

123 


MAROON    TALES 

ing  herself  in  irrelevant  phenomena  while  en- 
gaged in  noting  a  major  test.  If  Webster  had 
observed  reactions,  she  wished  to  be  informed 
of  them,  and  of  their  cause  and  effect,  direct 
and  indirect;  if  mistakes  had  been  made  she 
desired  to  place  a  scientific  finger  upon  them, 
eliminate  them,  reconstruct  the  imperfect  steps 
of  the  experiment,  and  proceed  upon  the  firm 
basis  of  facts. 

"I  insist  upon  facing  the  main  question,  nev- 
ertheless," she  said.  "You  know  I  have  been 
collecting  material  of  my  own,  and  I  mean 
to  set  it  forth  in  due  time — after  you  have  fin- 
ished. ' ' 

"And  I  shall  have  to  insist  upon  talking  of 
my  trip.  For  it  disposed,  in  a  way,  of  what 
you  call  the  main  question ;  it  acted,  I  may  say, 
as  the  cure.  To  be  brief,  I  visited  the  Univer- 
sity Settlement  on  Friday  and  remained  there 
half  the  day;  when  I  left  I  had  arranged  to 
spend  a  considerable  part  of  my  time  there  for 
the  rest  of  the  summer.  I  intend  to  teach  a 
class,  if  they  will  permit  me  to  do  so.  That  is 
where  you  find  your  raw  material,  Miss  Pence. 
It  's  a  wonderful  place.  I  don't  know  when 
anything  has  had  such  a  stimulating  effect  upon 

124 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

me.  It  has  given  me  the  inspiration  to  deliver 
a  course  of  lectures  this  winter.' ' 

"In  the  third-rate  opera-house  in  the  third- 
rate  town?" 

"Yes,  I  Ve  recovered  my  perspective,  you 
see.  The  only  wonder  is  that  it  took  me  four 
days  to  do  it." 

"And  what  about  'your  fling '  and  ' kicking  up 
your  heels  ? '  Who  took  you  to  the  Settlement  % \ f 
Miss  Pence  was  almost  forgetting  to  be  scien- 
tific. 

"I  went  with  one  of  the  young  men  at  the 
house — a  Mr.  Larned.  He  instructs  a  class  of 
boys  in  physical  culture. ' ' 

"And  so,  after  all,  one  of  the  pagans  fur- 
nished the  impulse led  you  out  of  darkness 

into  light." 

"Not  at  all,  Miss  Pence.  He  happened  to  ask 
me  by  the  merest  chance.  You  may  depend  upon 
it  that  Mr.  Larned  never  gave  it  a  second 
thought." 

1 1  But  even  if  that  is  true,  surely  we  must  give 
him  credit  for  the  cure, ' '  Miss  Pence  urged.  ' '  I 
am  inclined  to  think  he  must  have  had  some 
motive  in  taking  you.  Surely  he  has  the 
place  at  heart  if  he  teaches  there  ? ' ' 

125 


tfAROO: 


"I  doubt  it.    He  calls  his  pupils  ' dirty 
Deggars'  and  actually  makes  light  of  his  ow 
connection  with  the  work.  He  intimated  that  h 
was  doing  it  to  'make  a  hit'  with  the  faculty 
No,  I  think  it  quite  unnecessary  to  manufactur 
any  heroic  qualities  to  fit  Mr.  Larned  's  figure. ' 

Miss  Pence  glanced  up  swiftly,  but  no  sign 
betrayed  her  cool  surprise  and  displeasure.  Sh 
seldom   displayed    emotion.      She   quickly    r 
viewed  her  prearranged  brief  of  argument,  an 
clicked  off  one  of  the  headings : 

"Leaving  the  question  of  Mr.  Larned,  do  yo 
still  consider. yourself  archaic ?" 

"I  do,  in  the  sense  that  I  have  discovered  nrv 
self  quite  incapable  of  enjoying  the  diversion 
of  early  youth.  However,  I  proved  that  I  could 
upon  occasion,  simulate  the  spirit  of  the  youn& 
college  boy.,,  He  began  to  choose  his  words 
more  carefully.  "Having,  as  you  know,  deter- 
mined to — to  make  myself  congenial  to  a  crowd 
of  these  boys — I — I  may  say,  I  became,  perhaps 
less — less  dignified  than  is  likely  to  occu 
again. ' ' 

"I  hope  you  did  not  find  it  necessary  to  emu 
late    the    example    of    our    bibulous    poet — 
Horace  ?" 


: 


126 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

Webster  colored.  "I  have  at  least  proved,  to 
my  own  satisfaction,  that  an  air  of  flippancy 
and  ' don't  care'  is  the  key  to  the  friendship  of 
these  young  men,"  he  said.  "I  was  merely  a 
'prehistoric  relic'  and  a  person  of  no  im- 
portance whatever  while  I  remained  in  my  own 
character.  But  behold !  I  allow  myself  to  ap- 
pear as — as  thoughtless  and  slangy  as  they. 
Immediately  they  become  friendly  and  insist 
upon  entertaining  me.  The  inference  is  clear. 
Doubtless  they  consider  me  as  frivolous  as 
themselves.  Really,  Miss  Pence  I  now  have  no 
longing  for  that  kind  of  existence.  It  was  not 
what  I  wanted."  He  repeated  the  last  state- 
ment with  slow  emphasis. 

"But  I  still  hope  to  be  of  service  to  the  boys," 
he  resumed,  '  *  if  only  in  helping  them  cultivate 
worthier  habits — if,  indeed,  I  succeed  in  getting 
close  enough  to  them.  At  present  their  manner 
seems  rather  consciously  repressed.  When  we 
were  out  together  the  other  evening  they  were 
considerably  more — more  temperate  and  quiet 
than  I  suspect  was  natural. ' ' 

"Than  you  suspect!"  Miss  Pence  exclaimed. 
"I  fear  you  weaken  your  position  by  that  state- 
ment, Mr.  Webster.    For  my  part,  I  must  con- 

127 


MAKOON  TALES 


fess  myself  slightly  prejudiced  in  favor  of  the 
boys,  although  I  base  my  opinion  on  purely 
second-hand  information.  A  Miss  Miller — Miss 
Margery  Miller — a  most  sensible  girl  with 
whom  I  have  become  well  acquainted  in  Foster, 
gave  me  a  much  different  account  of  your  new 
friends.  She  knows  them  very  well — I  thin 
her  father  is  a  member  of  the  Eho  soci 
ety.  She  is  one  of  the  most  popular  girls  in  th 
University,  I  am  told.  She  gives  me  to  under 
stand  that  this  Mr.  Lamed  is  one  of  the  ables 
young  men  here,  and  that  the  others  stand  wel 
up  in  scholarship  and  in  the  better  class  of  Uni 
versity  activities.  She  considers  them  excep- 
tionally talented.' ' 

"They  are  brilliant,' '  Webster  admitted, 
"but  in  a  peculiarly  misdirected  fashion.  One 
of  them  has  extraordinary  mimetic  powers ;  his 
imitations  of  various  professors  and  clergymen 
are  quite  realistic.  Another  is  a  pianist;  I 
heard  him  playing  the  Doxology  this  morning, 
— in  ragtime.  Larned,  I  am  informed,  is  known 
throughout  the  country  for  his  ability  in  the 
game  of  football.  Mr.  Hollister  told  me  that  he 
was  always  able  to  make  his  opponent  resem- 
ble l  a  copper  cent  with  a  hole  in  it. '  I  overheard 

128 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

one  of  the  others  boasting  that  he  held  the 
world's  record  for  ' inhaling  one-half  liter  of 
liquid  bread/  which  means,  no  doubt,  that  he  is 
a  particularly  dexterous  swimmer.  Do  you  think 
Miss  Miller's  estimate  is  based  upon  these  ac- 
complishments, Miss  Pence  ?" 

"Not  at  all.  I  consider  her  too  sensible.  I 
think  very  well  of  her  judgment,  although  I 
must  admit  that  she  is  inclined  to  speak  rather 
lightly  of  important  matters.  At  first  I  expected 
nothing  but  nonsense  from  her ;  I  suppose  that 
was  because  she  is  so  pretty  and  popular.  I 
found  her  quite  different.  Her  sociological 
views  are  wholesome  and  vigorous.  For  that 
reason  I  do  not  hesitate  to  attach  weight  to  her 
fresh  and  interesting  analyses  of  University 
questions — to  her  estimate  of  Mr.  Larned  and 
the  other  young  men.  I  fancy  that  she  is  typical 
of  the  young  college  girl — and,  in  a  sense,  of  the 
young  men,  as  well.  She  is  a  very  healthy  em- 
bodiment of  the  undergraduate  idea.,, 

"A  thing,  which,  if  it  exists,  I  have  been  un- 
able to  find,"  was  Webster's  comment.  "What 
further  words  of  wisdom  did  this  immature 
young  person  see  fit  to  speak?  What,  I  may 
say,  is  the  undergraduate  idea?" 

129 


MAEOON  TALES 

Now,  Miss  Sarah  Pence,  who,  as  you  know 
was  a  "remarkable  little  woman,"  was  blessec 
with  what  is  called  a  saving  sense  of  humor 
and  the  fact  that  she  religiously  discouraged  this 
valuable  possession  had  not  completely  dullec 
it.  Once  or  twice  in  a  month  she  permitted  her- 
self to  laugh  silently  while  preserving  an  out- 
ward demeanor  of  perfect  serenity — an  act 
which  she  considered  a  none  too  justifiable  form 
of  dissembling.  Perhaps  this  was  one  of  the 
rare  occasions.  That  would  account  for  the 
almost  imperceptible  flicker  in  her  gray  eyes 
and  the  tone  of  gentle  relish  in  her  voice  as  sh 
replied  to  Webster : 

"Miss  Miller  told  me  that  she  was  taking 
her  education  'as  painlessly  as  possible. 
She  told  me  that  she  supposed  there  wai 
more  than  one  way  of  doing  the  same  thing  in 
this  world,  and  as  she  believed  we  all  had  some 
sense  or  we  would  not  be  in  the  University  in 
the  first  place,  she  imagined  the  Lord  intended 
us  to  use  it  in  picking  out  our  way  to  do  it.  She 
defended  your  young  friends  on  that  ground 
'Mr.  Lamed  is  not  only  an  athlete,'  she  said 
'he  is  also  deeply  interested  in  the  uplift  an 
he   dances   beautifully. p    As   for   herself,    sh 

130 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

said  she  was  well  aware  that  a  number  of  peo- 
ple considered  her  'a  feather-brained  little  foor 
because  she  did  not  'go  moping  about  with 
a  Schopenhauer  expression. '  I  understand  that 
Miss  Miller  is  an  exceptionally  fine  student. 
But  perhaps  we  need  not  dwell  on  that  phase 
of  it?"  Miss  Pence  looked  up  with  the  smallest 
possible  suggestion  of  amusement  in  her  raised 
eyebrows. 

"I  fear  it  would  not  repay  our  attention,  Miss 
Pence.  We  have  already  spent  the  better  part 
of  half  an  hour  in  much  the  same  sort  of  fruit- 
less reflection.  We  shall  just  have  time  to  look 
over  the  seminar  syllabus.  And  I  must  copy 
your  outline  of  Professor  Whitler's  lectures.  I 
missed  three  meetings,  did  I  not!" 

Webster  unbuckled  his  book-strap  and  pulled 
out  a  pad  of  paper,  stooping  to  pick  up  a  small 
dark-covered  volume  that  had  tumbled  to  the 
ground  at  his  feet.  "How  annoying!"  he  ex- 
claimed. "I  intended  to  return  this  to  the  li- 
brary this  afternoon.    I  have  finished  with  it." 

Miss  Pence  reached  for  the  book.  "Why," 
she  said,  "it 's  Horace.  I  had  quite  forgotten 
him.  And  I  see  he  has  been  liberally  turned 
down  and  underscored.  Let  me  see : 

131 


MAROON   TALES 

'Thou  late  my  deep  anxiety  and  fear, 
And  now  my  fond  desire  and  tender  care, 
Ah!    yet  take  heed,  avoid  those  fatal  seas, 
Which  roll  among  the  shining  Cyclades.' 

Arid  on  the  next  page : 

'Me  too  the  heat  of  youth  to  madness  fired, 
And  with  Iambic  rapid  rage   inspired. 
But  now  repentant  shall  the  Muse  again 
To  softer  numbers  tune  her  melting  strain,' 

Dear  me !    Our  poet  seems  strangely  moderate 
today — almost  timid.     Ah!— 

'Let  others  quaff  the  racy  wine 

To  whom  kind  fortune  gives  the  vine. 

'To  you  boon  Nature  frankly  yields 
Her  wholesome  salad  from  the  fields.' " 

Miss  Pence  regarded  the  last  lines  with  some- 
thing like  surprise.  "The  penciled  alteration 
in  the  text  obviously  carries  a  message/ '  she 
observed.  "Mr.  Webster,  did  you  mark  these 
lines  to  warn  the  tribe  of  pagans  V 

Webster  bent  over  and  scrutinized  the  page. 
He  shook  his  head.  "No,"  he  said;  "I  did  not. 
I  think  some  pagans  marked  them  for — for 
somebody  else.  And  the  particular  pagans 
who  did  it — " 

The  hoarse,  joyous  toot  of  an  automobile 
horn  interrupted. 

132 


SOME  ODES  AND  SOME  EPISODES 

A  big  red  motor,  loaded  down  with  boys  and 
golf  clubs  and  noise,  whizzed  past.  A  noisy, 
maroon-sweatered  giant,  piled  upon  a  pyramid 
of  smaller  fellows,  shouted  a  muffled  " Hello !" 
from  the  back  seat.    They  were  gone. 

Webster  smiled.  "You  see,"  he  said,  "they 
are  demonstrating  the  'painless'  method.  They 
are  heathens.  But  I  'm  rather  glad  to  know 
them,  anyhow." 

' '  Yes ! '  ■  Miss  Pence  closed  the  little  yellowed 
book  with  a  snap  and  laid  it  on  the  bench.  "Yes, 
indeed!"  she  said.  "It  's  so  educating."  She 
began  at  once  to  read  aloud  from  her  lecture 
notes,  while  Webster  was  polishing  his 
spectacles. 


133 


THE   INDISCRETIONS   OF   YVONNE   DE 
LA  PLAISANCE 


T  OVELY,  absolutely  lovely!  Oh,  beautiful !" 
-"  Otto  von  Pickleschnitzel  threw  aside 
his  "Metaphysic  of  Ethics,,,  clapped  his  fore- 
fingers in  mild  applause  and  beamed  along 
a  large,  scarlet  nose  at  Yvonne  de  la  Plaisance, 
shrieking  discordant  mirth  in  the  doorway. 

" Great!  Just  the  right  touch  of  abandon,  as 
Wakey  would  say.  Isn't  Yvonne  immense ?" 
He  appealed  to  Raggio,  Count  di  Bummi,  who 
was  striking  attitudes  before  a  mirror  propped 
upon  the  bookcase. 

"  Immense  is  good,  especially  as  to  feet  and 
mouth,' '  agreed  the  count,  vainly  endeavoring 
to  get  the  full  effect  of  his  costume  by  pirouet- 
ting rapidly  before  the  looking-glass.  "Too 
bad,"  fondly  surveying  his  pointed  mustachios, 
"that  Squib  was  born  that  way." 

Otto  von  Pickleschnitzel  arose  and  slapped 
Yvonne  de  la  Plaisance  upon  the  chest  in  hearty 
admiration.  "Keep  it  up,"  he  cried;  "but  don't 

135 


= 


MAROON  TALES 

yowl  so  loud.     You  're  becoming  unladylik 
Now  we  '11  try  our  great  emotional  scene. ' '  H 
adjusted  his  putty  nose.  "Vooman,  vo  ist  me 
card-case ?" 

"Pocketbook,  Otto — pocketbook,"  correcte 
a  person  in  a  green-and-yellow  gown,  who  wa 
playing  solitaire  on  the  floor.  Do  you  suppos 
she  has  swiped  your  pawn-checks?  An 
r — r — roll  your  r's." 

" There  aren't  any  r's  in  it,  Lucretia.  Voo- 
man,  vo  ist  mein  pocketbook  ?"  repeated  Otto. 
"Vo  is  it — scorn  me  now,  Squib.  Scorn,  you 
pin-head. ' ' 

But  Yvonne  de  la  Plaisance  did  not  scorn. 
She  tumbled  on  the  bed  and  kicked  at  the  air,  to 
the  consternation  of  her  co-stars  of  the  "Raz- 
Daz"  company  and  the  wrath  of  Bugs  Landon, 
who  was  trying  to  finish  a  theme  while  the 
Blackfriars  disported  themselves  in  their  comic 
opera  clothes. 

"It  's  the  sillies  again.  Let  him — let  her 
alone,' '  advised  Count  di  Bummi,  gazing 
anxiously  at  the  soubrette,  who  was  now  turn- 
ing somersaults  on  Landon 's  cot,  regardless  of 
red  satin  gown  and  hat. 

"Is  there  a  physician  present V  the  count  in- 

136 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

quired,  from  the  top  of  Landon's  study-table. 

'• l  Or  a  needle  and  thread  f ' '  added  Von  Pickle- 
schnitzel.    uOra  hatpin  I ' ' 

Yvonne  recovered  instantly  and  sat  up,  be- 
draggled and  weak. 

"Go  on  back,  'docs/  There  will  be  no  murder 
here  tonight,' '  announced  the  count,  waving 
away  an  imaginary  horde  of  applicants.  "Go 
back,  I  tell  you, ' '  and  his  cane,  aimed  at  a  par- 
ticularly bloodthirsty  man  of  medicine,  flicked 
a  plume  from  Lucretia  Nearly 's  bonnet. 

"Professor  Lampsen!"  gasped  Yvonne  de  la 
Plaisance.    "At  last  old  Lampy  has  got  his." 

"Dead?"  queried  Lucretia,  pleasantly. 

1 '  Lampy  —  Ezekiel  Swayback  Lampsen, ' ' 
panted  Yvonne. 

"What  's  up,  Squib?"  asked  Landon,  who 
had  folded  his  paper  on  "The  Inquisition"  and 
indorsed  it  to  Professor  Ezekiel  Swaybill 
Lampsen. 

Yvonne  de  la  Plaisance,  otherwise  Squib  Mor- 
ris, sophomore,  repaired  a  damaged  piece  of 
lace  by  tearing  it  off  and  throwing  it  out  of 
the  window  before  answering : 

"Why,  he  followed  me — chased  me  all  over 
the  campus — puddles  and  all — in  this  get-up." 

137 


MAROON  TALES 

The  "get-up"  was  slightly  damaged  by  the 
mud-— and  the  somersaults.  The  red  satin  gown 
was  wrinkled  and  splotched  with  dirty  water, 
and  several  delicate  medallions  of  lace  hung  by 
single  threads.  The  brim  of  the  Gainsborough 
hat  drooped  in  the  back;  wisps  of  the  brunette 
wig  straggled  over  Squib's  bare  shoulders.  The 
costume  committee  had  been  loath  to  part  with 
these  treasures  of  the  "Raz-Daz"  wardrobe, 
even  on  Squib's  excuse  of  an  engagement  with 
a  photographer  before  the  dress  rehearsal  in 
the  evening. 

"How  did  it  happen?"  insisted  Landon.  "I 
have  to  go  to  dinner,  so  hurry. ' ' 

The  Count  di  Bummi,  known  more  familiarly 
as  Petey  Strong,  seating  himself  on  the  cot  be- 
side Squib,  enforced  Landon  's  remark  by  pain- 
lessly extracting  a  strand  of  black  hair  from 
the  soubrette's  head.  Lucretia  Nearly,  cata- 
logued in  the  Recorder's  office  as  Frank  West- 
more,  sat  upon  the  lap  of  Al  Otto  von  Pickle- 
schnitzel  Taylor  and  stared  at  Squib  through 
thick  Maiden  Aunt  spectacles,  overshadowed  by 
Maiden  Aunt  ringlets. 

"Chased  you?  Lampy  chased  you?  What 
for?"  repeated  Landon. 

138 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

Squib  was  parading  around  the  room,  feign- 
ing contemptuous  indifference  toward  the  ex- 
citement he  had  created.  "Oh,  just  ran  after 
me.  Do  you  blame  him  1  I  drew  him  on, ' '  and  he 
straightened  his  Gainsborough,  not  at  all  daint- 

iiy. 

"Why,  the  shameless  old  goat,"  ejaculated 
Petey  Strong.  "I  never  thought  he  was  quite 
so  saintly  as  he  looks.  But  flagrant  fussing  in 
the  open !    This  is  monstrous. ' 9 

"Did  he  get  a  good  look  at  you!"  inquired 
Lucretia  Nearly,  incredulously. 

' '  Rot !  What  did  Lampy  really  do  V *  Landon 
gently  forced  the  red  satin  adventuress  into  a 
chair. 

"Several  things.  It  wasn't  my  looks,  Bugs, 
— that  is,  not  entirely.  It  might  have  been  the 
cigarette,  or  the  lingerie,  or  the  language  I 
used,  or — oh,  Lord!  there  goes  a  button  or 
something — or  it  might  have  been  that  last  high 
kick.,, 

' '  Did  you  kick  the  old  goat ! ' '  shouted  Petey. 

"No,  I  didn't  do  much  of  anything.  It  was 
Lampy  that  did  the  cutting  up.  I  was  just  com- 
ing along  past  Cobb  with  my  eyes  cast  modestly 
upon  the  sidewalk,  smoking  one  of  those  out- 

139 


MAROON  TALES 

door  cigarettes  Lucretia  gave  me.  I  ran  into 
Lampy,  jerking  along  as  he  always  does — you 
know.  There  wasn't  a  soul  in  sight;  so  of 
course  I  had  to  do  something,  didn't  I? 
Well " 

1 '  Certainly,  absolutely  had  to, '  '  assented  Von 
Pickleschnitzel  Taylor. 

"It  was  almost  dark,  and  Lampy  is  so  blind 
that  I  thought  I  'd  fool  him  just  for  a  minute. 
So  I  said :  'Why,  if  it  is  n't  Professor  Lampsen. 
How  do  you  do,'  like  this."  Squib  gave  an  ac- 
curate imitation  of  a  croupy  phonograph. 

"How  did  you  ever  think  of  it,  Squib?" 

"It  was  clever,  was  n't  it,  Bugs?  I  was  afraid 
Lampy  would  get  wise,  but  he  didn't.  He 
thought,  of  course,  I  was  one  of  his  pet  sharks 
in  her  Sunday  best.  He  stopped  and  said, 
' Beautiful  evening,'  and  I  was  so  fussed  that  I 
said,  'Like  hell  it  is.'  Lampy  was  sort  of  taken 
off  his  legs,  I  think.  He  kind  of  rattled  in  his 
throat,  like  an  old  hen.  So  I  took  a  good  puff 
at  my  'cig'  and  let  it  out  hard,  but  that  did  n't 
help  any.    Lampy  nearly  fell  over  backwards. 

"I  thought  he  would  get  on  to  the  joke  then, 
but  not  he.  I  started  to  confess  and  apologize, 
but  he  looked  so  foolish  that  I  simply  could  n' 

140 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

do  it.  So  I  started  to  leave.  He  grabbed  at 
me  and  wanted  my  name,  but  I  kept  my  mouth 
shut  and  did  one  of  those  acrobatic  kicks 
for  an  answer.  I  kept  backing  up  and  kicking 
until  he  made  a  rush  for  me  and  then " 

"Did  he  really  come  at  you?"  exploded  the 
Maiden  Aunt. 

"Come?  Well,  he  jerked  much  faster  than 
usual.  He  headed  me  off,  so  I  hiked  for  the 
other  side  of  the  campus.  I  worried  him  a  little 
by  jumping  behind  the  trees,  and  I  chinned  my- 
self several  times  on  the  scrub  oaks  while  he 
was  catching  up  with  me.  I  was  trying  to  act 
loony,  and  I  think  I  succeeded.  He  almost  had 
me  once.  These  blamed  fripperies  tangled  up 
my  legs.    He  can  go  some  when  he  feels  like  it, 

"I  sprinted  when  we  got  over  by  the  Law 
Building — made  straight  for  the  Girls'  Halls 
and  flopped  down  back  of  the  hedge  and 
crawled  along  until  I  got  to  some  bushes.  Lucky 
I  had  that  light  overcoat  on.  Lampy  came  up 
like  a  wheezy  traction-engine  and  stopped  stock 
still  in  front  of  Foster.  Thought  I  lived  there, 
I  suppose.  I  was  dying  to  have  him  ring,  and 
ask  for  the  girl  in  red,  but  he  did  n't.  Just  stood 
and  looked  at  the  door  a  while  and  then  jerked 

141 


MAROON  TALES 


back  toward  Cobb.    I  could  hear  him  muttering 
to  himself/ ' 

This  was  interesting.  The  "Raz-Daz"  princi 
pals    celebrated    with    an    impromptu    waltz 
Yvonne  de  la  Plaisance  danced  with  Raggio 
Count  di  Bummi;  and  Lucretia  Nearly,  sliding 
off  Otto  von  Pickelschnitzel 's  lap,  forced  the 
German  comedian  to  share  the  fun.     Yvonn 
stopped  before  Landon  and  inquired : 

"Well,  Bugs,  what  's  the  next  chapter f " 

"The  next  what  J" 

"What  are  we  going  to  do  to  Lampy?" 

"Nothing,  I  suppose.' ' 

"Nothing?  Listen,  Al,  he  says  we  are  not  g< 
ing  to  punish  Lampy  for  his  unheard  of  curio 
ity  and  unprofessional  conduct.  Do  you  mean 
to  say,  Bugs,  that  you  disapprove  of  carrying 
the  thing  to  its  logical  conclusion  t" 

"Which  would  be?" 

"I  don't  know  yet.  Something  appropriate. 
Something  to  fit  the  crime. ' ' 

"You  might  run  over  and  apologize  to  Lampy 
right  now,"  Landon  suggested.  "Let  him  de- 
cide.   He  's  good  at  passing  sentence." 

"I  'm  not  the  criminal  in  this  case,  you  fool." 
"Oh!" 

142 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

Squib  gave  the  senior  a  glance  of  displeasure. 
This  from  Bugs  Landon,  the  practical  joker! 
For  Landon 's  exploits  in  his  sophomore  year 
were  still  remembered.  Bugs  was  older  now, 
and  disapproved  of  Squib's  attempts  to  estab- 
lish himself  as  his  successor.  Several  of 
Squib's  recent  "  joking' '  achievements  had  been 
highly  indiscreet,  and  it  had  taken  a  quantity  of 
earnest  conversation  with  a  certain  dean  to 
square  him.  The  boy  was  in  grave  danger  of 
becoming  a  gifted  "prof-baiter,"  much  to 
Landon 's  distress. 

"Do  you  mean  to  stand  up  and  be  a  moral 
leader  or  something  like  that,  Bugs  ? ' '  Squib  de- 
manded. '  i  Do  you  forget  the  time  you  broke  up 
the  prayer  meeting  with  Japanese  snuff,  and  the 
time  you  nearly  scared  Professor  Richards  into 
nervous  prostration  with  that  ghost-walking 
stunt?  Will  you  or  will  you  not  contribute  a 
small  portion  of  your  gray  matter  to  this  grand 
and  noble  cause?"  he  finished,  unaware  of  the 
thoughts  he  was  arousing  in  Landon. 

"I  think  you  need  a  good  object  lesson,"  said 
Bugs.  Then,  as  if  happily  inspired,  "Will  you 
agree  to  follow  my  instructions?" 

"To  the  bitter  end."  The  "Raz-Daz"  come- 

143 


MAROON  TALES 

dians  raised  their  right  hands  in  pledge  of  blind 
allegiance. 

' 'Very  well,"  said  Landon.  "Conie  in,"  he 
called  when  somebody  rattled  the  door 
"Locked?  Come  in  anyway."  He  opened  th 
door  and  admitted  a  small  colored  boy,  who 
hauled  a  large  basket  into  the  room. 

Squib  explained: 

"We  had  our  dinner  sent  over  from  the  Com- 
mons— these  rigs  are  so  infernally  hard  to  get 
on  that  we  couldn't  take  'em  off  before  the 
dress  rehearsal.  Stay  and  eat  with  us,  Bugs 
You  may  have  half  of  Petey's  food.  We  ought 
to  treat  you  right,  because  it 's  your  room,  you 
know.  Here's  your  tainted  money,  Choc 'late 
Drop.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself 
for  bringing  such  a  stingy  batch  of  stuff  ove 
here." 

Landon  inspected  the  top  layer  of  the  uncov- 
ered basket  with  intense  disfavor.  "Thanks,' 
he  said,  "but  I  just  happen  to  remember  that  I 
have  an  important  date.  I  '11  meet  you  at  re 
hearsal  if  I  can  get  past  the  door.  I  '11  have  th< 
punishment  worked  up  by  that  time.  See  you 
later." 

"I  '11  tell  you  what  we  '11  do  to  Lampy,"  be- 

144 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

gan  the  Count  di  Bummi,  when  Landon  had 

gone.    "We  '11 " 

"Don't  dissipate  your  valuable  intellect  that 
way,  Peter,"  warned  Squib.  "Just  pin  your 
throbbing  little  hopes  on  Mr.  Bugsy  Landon, 
who  is  right.    Sweep  off  the  tables,  please." 


145 


MAROON   TALES 


II 


In  the  expert  opinion  of  Wakefield,  the  Black- 
friar  coach,  the  "Raz-Daz"  comedians  were 
" simply  rotten' '  at  rehearsal.  They  missed 
their  cnes,  forgot  their  lines  and  almost  disor- 
ganized the  company.  Wakefield  thought  that 
Yvonne  de  la  Plaisance  was  a i '  wooden  Indian, ' ' 
and  that  Taylor  should  have  been  cast  as  the 
Third  Villager,  who  had  a  deep  thinking  part, 
broken  only  by  the  exclamation,  "Let  us  flee!" 
just  before  the  entrance  of  the  angry  mob,  six 
strong.  He  also  thought  complimentary  things 
about  Lucretia  and  the  count,  to  the  great  de- 
light of  the  principals,  who  loved  to  see  old 
Wakey  worked  up. 

"No,  no,  no — stop  right  there/ '  Wakefield 
clapped  his  hands  angrily  and  ran  to  the  center 
of  the  stage,  interrupting  a  dialogue  between 
Yvonne  and  Otto  on  the  castle  steps.  "You  '11 
have  to  put  some  ginger  into  that  joke,  Taylor, 
and  you  might  work  in  a  few  of  the  original 
lines.  You  're  balling  things  up  fierce.  You 
seem  to  have  something  more  important  on  your 
mind." 

146 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

Taylor  repeated  his  speech  with  so  much  ani- 
mation that  the  scenery  swayed  threateningly. 
The  members  of  the  honeysuckle  ballet,  prepar- 
ing to  frisk  in  the  castle  garden,  nudged  each 
other  and  tittered,  whereupon  Wakefield  gave 
them  his  attention. 

"You,  Third  Flower  Maiden/ '  he  shouted, 
"quit  squatting  that  way.  Straighten  up! 
Straighten  up ! ' ' 

"He  can't.  He  's  bowlegged,"  volunteered 
the  Third  Flower  Maiden's  dancing  partner. 
Wakefield  froze  the  truthful  coryphee  into 
silence  while  the  ballet  sniggered.  Somebody 
observed,  in  a  loud  whisper,  that  Wakey 's  face 
was  dirty. 

"Finish  your  scene  and  get  off  stage,  Mor- 
ris," roared  the  coach.  "And  you  M  better 
study  your  lines  between  acts." 

Squib  followed  a  part  of  this  advice.  He 
hurried  into  the  wings,  but  not  to  find  his  part. 

"What  have  you  been  trying  to  tell  me!"  he 
asked  Taylor.  "I  couldn't  remember  my  merry 
jests,  trying  to  hear  you." 

"Kun  back  there  and  find  Red  Wallace.  He  's 
got  great  news  about  Lampy. ' ' 

"Where  'sBugs!" 

147 


MAEOON   TALES 


' l  Out  in  front.  I  '11  get  him.  Meet  me  in  the 
big  room  downstairs.     Find  Westmore,  too." 

The  largest  basement  dressing-room  was  oc- 
cupied by  a  motley  group  of  conspirators  dur- 
ing the  honeysuckle  ballet  and  the  ensuing  in- 
termission. Landon  was  there,  and  the  four 
chief  "Raz-Daz"  comedians;  also  Red  Wallace, 
dressed  as  Lena,  the  Miller's  Daughter,  and 
James  Gordon,  a  senior  Blackfriar,  cast  as 
Whoop-La,  the  Court  Jester.  Gordon  had  in- 
sisted upon  being  present,  smiling  affably  at 
the  pointed  hints  dropped  by  Squib.  Red  had 
been  drafted  by  Landon  as  a  plotter  in  good 
standing  because  of  some  valuable  suggestions 
he  had  made. 

"Lock  the  door,"  commanded  Wallace. 
"Don't  let  anyone  in — not  even  Wakey." 

"What's  this  great  piece  of  news,  Red?" 
Squib  asked  excitedly. 

"It 's  about  Lampy.  He  's  out  for  blood. 
'Summary  expulsion'  in  his  eye." 

"How  did  he  know  who  it  was?" 

"He  did  n't.    He  does  n't  even  now." 

"Go  on,  there  's  the  first  act  curtain,"  said 
Landon. 

Red  obediently  began:    "I  was  telephoning 


148 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

in  Cobb — trying  to  get  Foster  Hall,  when 
Lampy  came  in  and  had  a  conniption  in  the 
next  booth.  He  got  Professor  Bundy  on  the 
wire  in  a  minute  and  began  unburdening  him- 
self. And  there  I  was  trying  to  get  Foster.  I 
was  going  to " 

" Stick  to  Lampy,"  ordered  Landon. 

"Well,  it  seems  that  he  and  Bundy  are  get- 
ting up  some  kind  of  a  debate  on  '  Co-education : 
Why  Is  it?*  and  he  wanted  to  see  Bundy  right 
away  about  it.  Some  meeting  down-town  to- 
morrow night.  Then  he  broke  loose  on  the  sub- 
ject of  girl.  It  was  pathetic.  Awfully  stirred 
up. 

"He  said:  'My  dear  Bundy,  I  Ve  had  a  most 
extraordinary  experience — most  unusual  and 
disturbing.  It  has  raised  grave  doubts  in  my 
mind  as  to  several  of  the  premises  we  have  laid 
down  in  our  paper.  The  point  concerning 
female  culture  at  co-educational  institutions 
may  have  to  be  changed,  I  fear.'  The  old  boy 
rambled  on  that  way  until  I  got  Foster,  and 
then  I  had  to  hold  the  wire  while  he  got  off  some 
more  bunk." 

"Hurry  up.  Tell  him  what's  doing."  Lan- 
don winked  at  Red  significantly. 

149 


MAEOON  TALES 

"Lampy  squeaked  worse  than  I  ever  hear' 
him,"  Bed  continued  glibly.  "Said:  'I  really 
cannot  relate  my  experience  over  the  telephone. 
It  is  too  shocking.  I  will  say,  however,  that  a 
young  woman  student  has  just  taken  the 
grossest  liberties  in  my  presence.  I  hesitate  to 
say  what  her  intentions  may  have  been  or  what 
may  have  induced  her '  " 

"Oh,  pure,  unspotted  virtue,"  sighed  Squib. 

"It  was  getting  too  scandalous  for  me;  so  I 
got  out  of  there  and  ducked  into  the  lecture- 
room  to  study  a  while  before  dinner." 

This   is   good,"    remarked   Petey    Strong. 
Is  n't  it,  Squib?" 

"Here  's  where  you  get  it  strong,  Squib," 
Red  proceeded.  "I  hadn't  been  in  there  five 
minutes  before  in  came  Lampy  and  Bundy. 
Never  noticed  me  at  all,  even  when  I  coughed, 
and  I  couldn't  leave  very  well  after  they  got 
started.  You  see,  Bundy  had  rushed  to  the 
scene  to  hear  the  whole  salacious  tale.  And  he 
got  it,  hot  off  the  bat.  Lampy  said  to  Bundy 
'I  am  quite  certain  that  the  young — er — per- 
son is  a  student  of  this  institution.  She  called 
me  by  name.  I  was  amazed  at  the  cigarette 
and   you   may   imagine  my   astonishment   at 

150 


i  i 


THE  INDISCKETIONS  OP  YVONNE 

her  other  actions.  To  think  of  her  actually 
kicking  at  me  and — and  using  an  oath.  Shock- 
ing! Shocking  V  He  said  he  followed  you  to 
your  room  merely  to  get  your  number,  and  that 
he  was  completely  flabbergasted  when  he  traced 
you  to  Foster.  He  's  absolutely  certain  that  you 
live  there." 

"What  are  they  going  to  do  with  me!" 
laughed  Squib,  swinging  his  legs  comfortably 
from  the  dressing-table. 

"Lampy  is  inclined  to  be  merciful.  Does  n't 
want  any  rumpus,  but  thinks  that  you  should  be 
carted  off  the  campus  as  soon  as  possible.  He 
is  going  to  appoint  a  select  committee  of  Junior 
College  deans  to  investigate  the  matter  sanely 
and  conservatively,  and  report  at  the  next 
faculty  meeting.  Bundy  wanted  to  go  right 
over  to  Foster  and  raise  the  devil,  but  Lampy 
wouldn't  stand  for  it.  *  Think  of  the  scandal, 
my  dear  Bundy,'  he  said.  *  Think  of  the  poor 
creature's  parents.  I  suppose  she  has  a  father 
and  mother  somewhere. '  Bundy  could  n't  deny 
this,  so  he  gave  in,  but  the  doings  will  start 
Monday  sure." 

"All  is  not  girl  that  wears  silkatino,"  said 
Squib.    ' '  Did  n  't  either  of  them  think  it  might 

151 


MAEOON    TALES 


be  a  Blackfriar?     Didn't  they  ever  hear 
'Raz-Daz,'  the  greatest  show  on  earth  V9 

"They  will  tomorrow  if  they  haven't  al- 
ready," wailed  Westmore.  "Then  it  will  be 
all  up." 

"Don't  worry,  Franky,"  Red  consoled  him. 
"Everybody  else  will,  but  that  pair  won't. 
They  're  not  people.  They  are  just  intellect. 
They  haven't  the  faintest  idea  what  goes  on 
here.  Too  busy  hating  themselves.  Why,  they 
even  considered  your  personal  charms  without 
getting  wise,  Squib." 

"You  needn't  repeat  that  part  of  it." 

'  *  Oh,  it  was  n't  bad.  Lampy  simply  said  that 
your  general  physiognomy  indicated  a  sort  of 
congenital  depravity,  though  some  might  con- 
sider you  pretty,  in  a  brazen,  vulgar  sense. 
They  were  discussing  that  point  when  they  got 
up  and  left.  I  was  about  ready  to  jump  out  the 
window. ' ' 

"Very  good,  indeed,"  chuckled  Squib.  "As- 
sembly of  deans;  investigation  of  women's 
halls;  innocent  lady  student  canned;  Lampy 
saved.  And  I  thought  he  was  chasing  me  for 
a  knock-down.  All  right,  Bugs,  you  have  the 
floor.    Read  your  resolution." 


152 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

Landon  moved  his  chair  farther  from  the 
Blackfriars.  "This  new  angle  necessitates  a 
slight  shift  in  the  arrangements,"  he  said 
solemnly.  "I  prefer  to  listen  to  suggestions 
and  decide  upon  the  deed  later.  I  '11  hear  you 
one  by  one.    What  do  you  think,  Lucretia  f ' ' 

"In  my  humble  opinion,' '  said  Westmore, 
' '  the  injured  innocence  gag  would  go  down  with 
Lampy.  I  move  that  we,  the  loving  relatives 
of  Miss  de  la  Plaisance,  hasten  at  once  to  the 
room  of  the  aforesaid  Lampy  and  tell  him  what 
we  think  of  his  disgusting  approaches.  We  '11 
have  to  tone  Squib  down  a  bit,  because  he 
looks  a  little  too — too  unconventional.  I  will  be 
the  poor  innocent  dove's  mother,  and  as  such, 
will  baste  the  brute  over  the  head  with  a  hand- 
kerchief if  he  doesn't  take  back  his  harsh 
words.  I  can  give  him  some  hot  stuff  along  that 
line.    Want  me  to  try  it  1 " 

"No,  thanks,"  said  Landon.  "Your  plan  is 
utterly  pointless.  Otherwise,  it  is  good.  Next, 
Otto  von  Pickleschnitzel ! " 

Taylor  responded  from  a  pile  of  costumes 
on  the  floor: 

"Squib,  you  be  a  long  lost  friend  of  his  boy- 
hood days.     Pretend  you  know  him — used  to 

153 


MAROON  TALES 


get  soused  with  him  and  all  that.  Draw  him 
out  along  that  line.  I  'd  like  to  hear  him 
confess  to  something  stronger  than  Commons 
milk.  Tell  him  you  used  to  know  him  in  Paris — 
came  back  here  specially  to  see  him.  Rig  up 
some  compromising  letters  and  hint  at  black 
mail.  Watch  him  squirm.  I  half  believe  he  is 
a  reformed  sport — the  old  hypocrite !  How  's 
that,  Bugsy?" 

"Very  primitive.  Your  mentality  must  be 
running  low  tonight.  I  'm  surprised  at  you 
The  next  speaker  of  the  evening  will  be  Yvonne 
de  la  Plaisance.    Ready,  Squib !" 

"I  think  we  'd  better  pull  off  the  repent-of 
our-sins  act,"  said  the  soubrette.  "That  will 
be  easy,  effective  and  more  humorous  than  th 
ridiculous  suggestions  advanced  by  these  would- 
be  romancers.  I  will  confess  to  the  cigarette, 
absinthe,  morphine,  and  cramming  habits,  an 
lay  my  strange  actions  to  these.  I  '11  throw  my 
self  on  his  mercy  and  tell  him  about  my  siste 
and  thirty-one  mothers — I  mean  my  mother  an 
thirty-one  sisters.    That  ought  to  stun  him. " 

"And  then?"  suggested  Landon. 

"After   he  's    forgiven    me,    I  '11    just    s 


154 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

1  Cheer  up,  Lampy,  old  sport.  It  's  only  a  joke. 
Have  a  cigar.'  " 

"Comment  deferred,"  intoned  Landon. 
"Count  di  Bum!" 

"I  favor  something  more  exciting,"  saLd 
Petey.  "Let  Squib  impersonate  an  escaped 
lunatic.  It  would  be  so  easy  for  him.  And  think 
of  the  possibilities.  He  could  smash  the  win- 
dows and  black  Lampy 's  eyes  and  create  much 
devastation.    Let 's  start  right  now." 

"That  *s  good,  but  I  shall  have  to  pass  it  up. 
It  would  unsettle  poor  Lampy 's  mind.  I  '11  tell 
you  why  in  a  minute.    Whoop-La,  speak ! ' ' 

Gordon  did  not  respond  at  once.  He  shifted 
his  position  and  cleared  his  throat  ominously. 
His  painted  smile,  curving  upward  in  red 
grease-paint  from  the  corners  of  his  serious 
mouth,  lent  his  long  face  the  appearance  of  un- 
willing mirth  as  he  asked,  "Do  you  really  in- 
tend to  do  something  of  this  sort?" 

A  concerted  affirmative  answer  came  from  the 
Eaz-Dazians. 

"I  thought  you  were  fooling,  Landon,"  he 
said.  "I  scarcely  expected  to  find  you  leading 
anything  so " 

"So  pifflingly  adolescent?"  smiled  Landon. 

155 


MAEOON  TALES 

' 'Yes,  or  adolescently  piffling,  if  you  prefer  it 
that  way."  Whoop-La  was  plainly  very  much 
disgusted.  "I  thought  we  swore  off  on  that 
form  of  stupidity  some  years  ago." 

"But  you  must  see,  James,"  replied  Bugs, 
"that  the  opportunities  in  this  case  are  rare  and 
tempting.    Do  you  admit  that?" 

"Yes,  perhaps  they  are.  It  is  a  great  chance 
to  be  funny."  Gordon  subsided  only  when 
Westmore  had  used  force  upon  him, 

"Attention,  company!"  called  Landon.  "We 
have  just  time  to  agree  upon  a  plan  before  you 
are  needed  upstairs.  I  '11  say  for  Gordon's  ben- 
efit that  I  felt  just  as  he  does  when  I  was  first 
asked  to  officiate  in  these  rites.  But  as  you  were 
determined  to  do  something,  I  wanted  to  see  it 
done  right.  I  still  have  some  of  the  old  sopho- 
more blood  left." 

This  so  irritated  the  lugubrious  Court  Jester, 
that  he  left  the  room,  to  the  tinkling  accompani- 
ment of  the  bells  with  which  his  gayly  striped 
clothes  were  adorned.  Eed  Wallace  said  he  had 
already  "done  his  share,"  and  went  out  with 
Gordon  to  change  costumes.  He  was  to 
"double"  as  the  Strolling  Pedlar  in  the  sec- 
ond act. 

156 


THE  INDISCBETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

"I  'm  glad  Gordon  has  gone,"  said  Landon. 
"We  can  talk  more  freely.  First,  I  wanted  to 
tell  you  about  Lampy 's  peculiarities.  You 
know,  I  suppose,  that  some  people  consider  him 
addled  up  here?"  He  tapped  his  forehead  im- 
pressively. "That  's  because  he  was  crazy 
once. ' ' 

"Beally?"  Squib  exclaimed. 

1 '  Yes,  really.  It 's  a  long  story  and  I  'm  not 
going  to  tell  it.  It  happened  years  ago.  A  man 
disappeared  very  mysteriously  and  Lampy  was 
accused  of  murder.  The  man  had  been  seen 
entering  Lampy 's  room,  but  they  couldn't 
prove  anything  on  him.  The  case  was  dropped. 
Poor  Lampy  went  completely  woozy  for  a  year 
or  so.  That  's  what  they  say,  but  it  may  be  only 
a  fake.  You  know  he  does  mighty  funny  things 
— stays  up  all  night  sometimes,  doing  all  sorts 
of  strange  stunts — can't  bear  electric  lights — 
uses  a  stinking  old  kerosene  lamp  or  a  candle. 
He's  dotty  about  the  Middle  Ages,  and  me- 
dieval documents,  and  chemistry,  and  so  on. 
He  manages  to  work  up  some  kind  of  laboratory 
experiments  in  his  room,  they  say." 

"I  don't  think  I  care  to  associate  with  an  in- 
termittent maniac,"  said  Squib,  frowning. 

157 


MAROON   TALES 

"Nonsense."  Landon  slapped  him  on  the 
back.  ' '  Cheer  up.  I  don 't  believe  half  the  stuff 
they  tell  about  Lampy.  He  's  only  a  nutty  old 
goat.  You  said  so  yourself.  He  's  harmless,  and 
no  mistake.  I  simply  told  you  so  that  you 
would  not  remind  him  of  his  old  trouble.  You 
might  bring  it  back,  you  know.  There  goes  the 
bell,  and  I  have  to  study  tonight;  so  listen  to 
my  scheme.' ' 

Landon  mounted  a  chair  and  stated  his  plans 
hurriedly : 

"Now,  there  is  not  a  chance  on  earth  to  do 
anything  tonight.  Lampy 's  in  Evanston  ad- 
dressing a  culture  club.  Tomorrow  's  the  time, 
after  the  show.  Lampy  will  be  at  home  then, 
with  his  candle  going  full  tilt." 

"Red  said  he  was  going  to  be  away  tomor- 
row night,"  Squib  broke  in. 

"Red  was  mistaken.  He  meant  the  night 
after  that.  Now,  as  to  the  competent  and 
well-meant  suggestions  to  which  we  have  just 
listened,  I  think  our  friend  Squiblet's  contribu- 
tion is  the  most  pertinent.  Squib  started  the 
thing,  and  it  wouldn't  be  fair  to  deprive  him 
of  the  pleasure  of  managing  it,  in  part,  at  least. 
It  is  only  right  that  he  should  act  as  the  devi 

158 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

ex  machina.  Therefore  we  '11  do  the  repentance 
act.  Squib  can  work  out  his  own  line  of  talk, 
and  the  rest  of  us  can  be  the  loving  relatives, 
as  our  friend  Westmore  suggests.  I  '11  ar- 
range for  a  grand  transformation  scene,  so  that 
it  will  end  the  right  way  and  in  harmony  with 
the  touching  relations  that  should  exist  between 
the  faculty  and  the  students.' ' 

"Last  act!"  shrieked  an  excited  person  out- 
side. 

"Wait  a  second.  The  opening  chorus  isn't 
over  yet.  Fix  it  up  so  that  you  can  all  slip  out 
the  stage-door  with  your  rigs  on.  Everybody 
but  Squib  wear  ordinary  wraps  over  his  cos- 
tume. I  '11  find  myself  some  kind  of  clothes. 
The  procession  will  form  back  of  Mandel  and 
proceed  across  country  to  Eyerson,  thence  to 
Sleepy  Hollow  by  way  of  the  uncharted  wilds 
of  the  South  Quadrangles  and  thence  to  North 
Hall.  Squib  will  tap  five  times  on  Lampy's 
door.  Five  taps  is  Lampy's  private  signal — 
sometimes  he  doesn't  open  up.  Got  it 
straight?  Then  run  along.  Somebody's  calling 
you,  Squib." 

The  second  act  of  Raz-Daz,  set  in  a  forest 
glade  by  the  ingenious  if  obvious  transforma- 

159 


MAROON  TALES 

tion  of  the  castle  buttresses  into  primeval 
green,  proceeded  to  a  rousing  climax  with 
a  vim  and  snap  that  surprised  Wakefield,  the 
coach.  The  honeysuckle  ballet,  having  cast  off 
its  airy  garb  for  the  russet  habiliments  of  the 
wood-nymph  chorus,  hopped  valiantly  about 
like  amiable  toads  with  a  compelling  desire  to 
please.  The  Count  di  Bummi  and  Aunt  Lucretia 
and  even  the  Strolling  Pedlar  seemed  fired  with 
the  same  ambition.  But  most  of  all,  Wakefield 
called  down  his  official  blessing  upon  Yvonne  de 
la  Plaisance  and  Otto  von  Pickleschnitzel,  who 
rose  to  delirious  heights  of  comedy  in  their  big 
scene.  Their  interpolated  burlesque,  announced 
as  "The  Repentant  Co-ed,"  received  much  ap- 
plause from  the  critical  audience  of  alumni  in 
front. 

An  hour  later,  the  conspirators  finished  a 
special  session  in  Landon's  room.  Squib  was 
not  present. 

"Red,  you  did  it  fine,"  Landon  was  saying. 
"You  are  without  a  doubt  the  most  accom 
plished  liar  I  ever  have  met.     That  telephone 
incident  was  beautiful." 

"You  're  some  gay  deceiver  yourself,  Bugs," 
returned  Red.    "For  instance,  the  bloody  mur- 

160 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

der  part.  It  was  mighty  fine  of  Lampy  to  come 
in  on  the  thing,  was  n't  it?    He  's  a  bird." 

"And  now,  if  we  can  only  cause  Squib  to 
throw  a  few  fits,  I  shall  feel  that  we  have  not 
lived  in  vain,"  added  Westmore. 

"Amen,"  said  Petey  Strong  and  Al  Taylor. 


161 


MAEOON   TALES 


III 


"Frozen  feet,"  said  Squib,  with  conviction. 

"That  's  a  bum  hunch,' '  objected  Von  Pickel- 
schnitzel  Taylor.  "Bugs  never  gets  that  com- 
plaint." 

The  Baz-Dazians  conversed  in  low  tones  on 
the  steps  of  Haskell,  whither  they  had  come  by 
circuitous  paths  quite  different  from  the  forma] 
line  of  march  arranged  by  Landon.  They  had 
been  obliged  to  sprint  past  several  astonished 
groups  to  avoid  being  recognized.  Landon 
might  have  managed  more  gracefully;  but 
that  artful  and  gifted  senior  was,  as  Eed  Wal- 
lace had  explained,  unable  personally  to  con- 
duct the  party.  It  was  his  desertion  at  th 
eleventh  hour  that  had  called  forth  Squib's  un- 
kind remark  about  his  feet. 

Eed,  from  a  picturesque  eminence  on  the  top 
step,  joined  in  defending  Landon.  "Do  you 
suppose  it 's  his  fault  that  his  aunt  has  the 
mumps,  or  whatever  it  is?"  he  argued.  "I 
tell  you  I  was  there  when  he  got  the  message. 
It  read  to  'come  at  once.  Aunt  Lizzie  is  sink- 
ing.'   Bugs  threw  some  things  into  a  suit-cas 

162 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

and  ran  for  a  train.  Said  Aunt  Lizzie  was  an 
awfully  nice  old  thing  and  that  he  could  n't 
allow  her  to  sink  in  solitude.  He  's  going  to  try- 
to  jolly  up  her  last  moments.  He  took  a  deck  of 
cards  along.  Aunt  Lizzie  is  foolish  about  pitch. 
And  he  said  he  couldn't  possibly  get  back  be- 
fore Tuesday — too  long  to  postpone  our  re- 
venge. ' ' 

"Sounds  fairly  reasonable,  but  I  wish  Aunt 
Lizzie  could  have  stuck  for  another  night, ' '  com- 
plained Squib.  ' '  I  thought  he  had  cold  feet  sure. 
I  saw  him  talking  to  Gloomy  Gordon  this  morn- 
ing ;  and  Gordon,  you  know,  wanted  him  to  give 
up  the  fun.  They  were  laughing  when  I  saw 
them." 

"What  of  it!  The  fact  remains  that  he  'a 
gone  and " 

"Let  's  stay  here  all  night  and  have  a  debate 
about  it, ' 9  suggested  Petey  Strong,  idly  dusting 
his  trousers  with  a  yellow  silk  handkerchief, 
which  had  added,  he  thought,  quite  a  foreign 
touch  to  his  Count  di  Bummi  costume.  "Sayf 
did  you  fellows  see  that  bouquet  of  onions  and 
radishes  that  Gordon  got  after  the  first  act !  He 
ate  part  of  it  and  put  the  rest  in  Wakefield's 
overcoat." 

163 


MAROON   TALE! 


c  i 


Sh — h — I"  Squib  emphasized  his  warning 
with  a  kick  at  Petey's  ribs.  "Not  so  loud. 
Who  is  that  fellow  looking  at  us  over  there  by 
Law?" 

"The  watchman.  Probably  thinks  we  're 
going  to  break  in  here  and  steal  the  mummies, ' ' 
ventured  Petey,  shouting  again.  "Hey,  over 
there !  We  're  not  going  to  steal  your  old 
mummies." 

The  watchman,  who  was  wise,  moved  on. 
He  knew  that  kind — "sassy  little  fellers  but 
good-natured  anyways,  and  that  's  somethin'." 

"What  time  is  it,  Petey!"  Squib  asked. 

"Almost  the  ghostly  hour  of  twelve." 

"We  're  due  then.  Come  on.  Anybody  want 
to  quit?" 

Evidently    nobody    did.      The    loyal    Raz- 
Dazians,  transferring  their  allegiance  from  the 
absent  Bugs  to  Squib,  scrambled  to  their  fee 
and  saluted. 

1  i  Everybody  remember  his  lines  ? }  9 

"Yes,"  together. 

"You  're  going  to  begin  as  soon  as  I  finish 
my  speech,  Al?" 

"Of  course.  I  'm  your  father.  Who  would 
have  a  better  right?" 

164 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

"  Are  n't  you  going  to  introduce  us!  I  insist 
upon  that,"  said  Lucretia. 

' '  Of  course  I  '11  introduce  you, ' '  Squib  prom- 
ised. "Professor  Lampsen,  my  mother;  Pro- 
fessor Lampsen,  my  father;  my  brothers, 
'  prof ' — like  that.  And  I  think  I  'd  better  in- 
troduce myself,  too — plain  Miss  de  la  Plaisance. 
Come  on,  now,  and  no  racket/  * 

The  "Raz-Daz"  conspirators  skirted  Haskell, 
silent  and  shadowy,  and  cut  across  the  Quad- 
rangle toward  the  dimly  lighted  door  of  North 
Hall.  And  it  is  very  probable  that  no  stranger 
procession  ever  approached  that  virtuous  por- 
tal. 

Acting  on  Landon's  advice,  the  plotters  had 
made  valiant  efforts  to  "disguise  themselves  as 
human  beings."  Yvonne  de  la  Plaisance 's  bril- 
liant red  evening  gown  was  draped  with  a  rich 
purple  table-spread,  smuggled  out  of  the  prop- 
erty-man's stronghold.  Lucretia  Nearly  had 
rebelled  on  the  plea  of  artistic  temperament. 
"I  am  supposed  to  be  your  mother,  so  I  '11  do 
as  I  please,"  Westmore  had  said.  "Besides, 
you  can't  subdue  this  green-and-yellow  atroc- 
ity." 

Count  di  Bummi  and  the  Strolling  Pedlar, 

165 


MAKOON    TALES 

as  the  small  brothers  of  Yvonne,  had  failed 
in  their  efforts  to  supply  their  characteriza- 
tions with  the  conventional  juvenile  make-up. 
Petey,  in  a  moment  of  wildness,  had  snatched 
up  an  infant's  hat  somewhat  resembling  a 
fat  pancake,  and  after  he  had  escaped  through 
the  stage-door,  had  been  unable  to  find  another. 
Eed  had  erred  in  the  opposite  direction.  He 
was  burdened  to  the  ears  with  a  brown  derby 
of  venerable  and  disreputable  appearance  and 
immoderate  size.  Otto  von  Pickleschnitzel  had 
squeezed  himself,  pads  and  all,  into  an  over- 
coat. He  was  the  irate  father,  and  he  was  quite 
certain  that  his  checkered  suit  was  not  suffi- 
ciently awe-inspiring  for  the  part.  He  wore  a 
silk  tile  over  his  wig;  he  thought  irate  fathers 
usually  wore  silk  tiles.  And  he  had  deepened 
the  red  on  his  cheeks ;  he  thought  they  usually 
had  very  red  faces,  too — mottled,  if  possible. 

They  climbed  the  stairs  cautiously.  "Re- 
member, if  we  meet  any  one,  heads  down  and 
collars  up,"  whispered  Squib,  sweeping  along 
in  advance.  His  loyal  adherents  embraced  in 
silent  joy.  They  found  Lampy's  room  on  the 
fourth  floor  by  the  dim  glow  that  came  through 

166 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

the  transom.  Squib  tapped  on  the  door  five 
times,  as  Landon  had  suggested. 

"Come  in."  It  was  Professor  Lampsen's  pe- 
culiar, squeaky  voice,  familiar  from  his  oc- 
casional lectures  at  ten-thirty. 

Squib  pushed  open  the  door  and  his  followers 
crowded  into  the  room  after  him. 

"I  shall  be  out  very  soon,"  came  the  squeaky 
voice  from  the  little  wardrobe  at  one  side 
of  the  small  room,  with  a  sound  as  of  clumsy 
fumbling  among  heavy  books. 

The  only  light  in  the  room  flickered  from  a 
short  yellow  candle  on  the  table  in  the  farther 
corner.  So  he  did  use  a  candle,  after  all! 
Probably  did  the  other  batty  stunts  they  told 
about  him,  too !  It  was  so  dark  and  gloomy  that 
they  could  not  clearly  make  out  the  furnishings 
of  the  room,  except  a  small  bed,  heaps  of  un- 
bound magazines  and  bulky  volumes  piled  about 
the  floor,  the  table,  and  against  one  wall  a  queer 
object  that  might  have  been  intended  as  a  rustic 
bench.  They  were  not  certain  of  this ;  so  they 
remained  standing.  They  could  hardly  see 
one  another's  faces.  This  was  fine !  There  could 
be  no  embarrassing  identifications  in  this  light. 

167 


MAROON  TALES 

"Pray,  pardon  this  execrable  light,  gentle- 
men.   My  eyes  are  so  abominably  weak." 

The  owner  of  the  voice  had  entered  silently 
from  the  curtained  wardrobe.  He  looked 
more  like  a  libelous  caricature  of  a  college  pro- 
fessor than  a  member  of  the  faculty.  The  tip 
of  his  nose,  a  straight  mouth  and  a  pale  jaw 
showed  beneath  an  enormous  green  eye-shade, 
which,  in  turn,  was  surmounted  by  a  black  skull- 
cap, pulled  well  down  on  the  forehead.  His 
black  frock  coat  of  ancient  cut  was  shiny  with 
much  nervous  rubbing  on  smooth-backed  chairs, 
and  his  ill-fitting  trousers  bore  the  marks  of 
long  and  faithful  service.  He  certainly  was  a 
joke. 

"Why,"  and  he  raised  one  arm  in  token 
of  surprise — "why,  there  are  ladies  present." 
Evidently  he  was  accustomed  to  the  feeble 
glare  of  the  candle,  for  he  was  quick  to  dis- 
tinguish the  costumes  of  his  visitors,  thought 
Squib.  He  seemed  disconcerted.  This  was 
probably  the  first  time  that  "feminine"  guests 
had  ever  penetrated  his  sanctuary.  No  wonder 
he  was  fussed. 

Squib  was  fussed,  too,  so  much  that  he  for- 
got to  introduce  himself  and  family.  He  walked 

168 


THE  INDISCKETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

over  to  the  strange,  gaunt  figure  and  began  his 
speech. 

1 ' Professor  Lampsen,  't  is  I,"  he  declaimed  in 
quivering,  high-pitched  tones.  Also,  he  gestic- 
ulated. "  'T  is  I,  but,  oh,  have  pity.  I  am  only 
a  poor  creature  with  the  dope  habit  and  ther 
St.  Vitus  dance.    I " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  young  woman,"  the  pro- 
fessor croaked.  "Kindly  repeat.  I  am  so 
abominably  deaf." 

Squib  shouted  in  the  professor's  ear:  "I  say 
I  am  only  a  poor  dope  fiend  and  I  have  the 
rickets — the  kicking-rickets.  I  hope  the  old 
door-post  heard  that." 

"How  terrible,"  murmured  the  professor. 
"Yes,  I  heard  you." 

Squib  shouted  again.  He  intended  to  see  it 
through,  even  if  Lampy  did  not  seem  re- 
sponsive. 

"I  may  have  acted  queerly  yesterday,  but  I 
assure  you  that  I  was  not  myself  at  that  time. 
Oh,  sir,  do  not  fire  me.  It  would  break  my 
mamma's  heart." 

Squib  was  supposed  to  sniffle  in  his  handker- 
chief at  this  juncture,  but  he  couldn't  find  the 

169 


MAROON  TALES 

handkerchief.     So  he  used  the  purp 
spread,  and  continued: 

"Oh,  sir,  have  mercy."  This  was  the  signal 
for  the  family  to  sink  to  its  knees.  "Oh,  kind 
sir,  behold  my  dear  parents  and  my  innocenl 
little  brothers." 

The  professor  turned  about  in  time  to 
witness  an  astounding  exhibition  of  family 
grief.  Lucretia  was  standing  on  her  head ;  the 
irate  father,  thumbs  at  ears  and  fingers  wrig- 
gling, was  indulging  in  unflattering  facial  con- 
tortions; the  brothers  were  fencing  gleefully 
with  two  of  Lampy's  brass-headed  walking- 
sticks. 

"Your  misfortune  is  inherited,  I  presume," 
said  the  professor,  glancing  again  at  the 
stricken  family. 

The  irate  father  took  offense.  ' '  Sir,  how  dare 
you  insult  my  daughter?"  he  thundered,  and 
then  he  remembered  to  puff.  He  thought  irate 
fathers  ought  to  puff,  too.  "How  dare  you" — 
puff — "insult  my  daughter" — puff,  puff.  "I 
have  a  notion" — puff — "to  slap  you" —  puff — 
"yes,  to  s — s — slap  you — but  I  'm  too  tired. 
You  slap  him,  mother." 

"Slap    him    yourself,"    retorted    Lucretia, 

170 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

whose  hat  now  hung  rakishly  over  one  ear.  "I 
am  old  and  feeble.  You  know  very  well  I  am. 
Yes,  professor,  she  is  my  child.  I  hate  to  ad- 
mit it,  but  she  is." 

"And  we,  sir,"  sang  Petey  Strong  and  West- 
more  in  an  empty  monotone,  "are  Miss  de  la 
Plaisance's  little  brothers.  Spare  her,  shady 
though  she  be." 

Squib  thought  his  friends  must  have  taken 
leave  of  their  senses.  This  was  not  much  like 
the  program  he  had  so  carefully  prepared. 
But  Lampy's  chilling  lack  of  interest  in  his  vis- 
itors was  worse.  The  professor  just  stood 
and  twirled  his  thumbs.  Squib  attempted  to 
enliven  the  occasion  by  performing  a  daring 
pas  seul.  The  exhibition  moved  the  professor 
to  inquire,  politely,  whether  they  cared  to  have 
seats. 

"Pardon  my  lack  of  courtesy,"  he  said.  "I 
am  so  abominably  absent-minded.  Sit  here, 
please." 

He  waved  his  guests  toward  the  strange  bench 
pushed  up  against  the  wall  opposite  the  bed. 
The  thing  was  made  of  five  roughly  fashioned 
chairs,  joined  with  heavy  timbers  extending 
across  the  narrow  backs  and  under  the  scooped- 

171 


MAROON  TALES 

out  seats;  evidently  it  was  of  Lampy's  own 
manufacture — another  example  of  his  pottering 
in  many  fields,  Squib  reflected.  The  professor 
insisted  upon  Squibb  occupying  the  seat 
nearest  the  table. 

"I  picked  this  up  in  Baluchistan, ' '  he  ex- 
plained in  a  tone  he  might  have  used  in  talk- 
ing art  with  a  crony  over  the  Commons 
faculty  table.  "Have  you  ever  been  in 
Baluchistan?  It  is  a  ve — ry  interesting  place 
— very.  Do  you  wish  to  see  how  this  works? 
It  is  ve — ry  interesting — very." 

"With  four  swift  motions  of  his  long  arms, 
the  host  drew  four  heavy  leather  straps  from 
the  back  and  bottom  of  Squib's  chair,  slipped 
them  across,  and  buckled  them.  Squib  was 
trussed  and  helpless,  and  rather  startled,  his 
neck,  body  and  legs  lashed  securely  to  the  chair. 

"Do  you  also  wish  to  sit  in  the  true  Baluch- 
istanese  manner  V9  The  professor  turned  to 
the  others.  To  Squib's  surprise,  the  rest  of  the 
family  expressed  great  eagerness  to  be  confined 
in  this  truly  novel  and  heathen  style.  So  they, 
too,  were  bound — very  expeditiously,  Squib 
thought.     Squib's  neck-strap  was  so  tight  that 

172 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

he  was  unable  to  watch  the  process,  which  took 
only  a  few  seconds. 

"Yes,  it  is  very  interesting,  Professor  Lamp- 
sen,"  Squib  tremulously  remarked  when  the 
demonstrator  of  Baluchistanese  manners  and 
customs  gave  no  sign  of  removing  the  thongs. 
"It  is  quite  odd;  but  I  think  the  neck  strap 
is  a  trifle  tight." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  the  professor.  "How 
felicitous !  It  is  meant  to  be  tight.  The  head 
comes  off  more  easily  that  way." 

"W— what?" 

1 '  The  head  must  be  held  very  erect,  my  dear 
young  lady."  There  was  a  queer  note  in 
Lampy's  voice  now.  "It  is  less  painful  in  the 
end.  Decapitation,  to  be  artistic,  should  be 
scientific.  The  two  fields  of  human  endeavor 
merge  into  one.  Consider  that  point,  I  beg  of 
you.  It  is  so  abominably  simple. p  p  He  walked 
slowly  to  the  table  and  pillowed  his  head  in  his 
arms  as  if  deeply  grieved  over  this  absurdity. 

Squib  laughed.  It  was  quite  a  joke.  He 
hadn't  credited  Lampy  with  so  much  humor. 
But  the  laugh  had  a  hollow  sound.  He  twisted 
his  head  painfully,  but  could  not  see  the  faces 
of  his   friends.     He  wondered  if  they  were 

173 


MAROON    TALES 

frightened.  As  lie  squinted  out  of  the  tail  of 
his  eye,  he  gave  a  quick,  shuddering  jump,  and 
jerked  his  head  back  into  position.  An  electric 
shock,  nerve-racking  and  blinding,  had  passed 
over  him.  He  thought  he  heard  Al  and  the  oth- 
ers making  strange  sounds.  Once  again  he 
tried  to  laugh,  but  another  shock  tingled  sharp- 
ly to  his  very  toes  and  converted  the  attempt 
into  a  mere  gurgle.  Another  jump.  Eeally,  it 
was  a  clever  stunt — this  fake  execution.  Only, 
it  seemed  a  little  creepy  because  of  the 
hour  and  because  Lampy  was  so  silent  and  grim 
about  it. 

The  strap  was  cutting  into  Squib  *s  neck. 
"We  surrender,' '  he  gasped.  "We  know  you  're 
on  to  us,  Professor  Lampsen."  His  voice 
quivered  a  little,  even  more  than  it  had  quivered 
a  short  time  before,  for  a  slightly  different 
reason.  And  it  was  not  falsetto  now.  His  host 
turned  around  and  smiled — a  smile  of  vapid 
stupidity.  There  was  not  a  sign  of  intelligence 
in  that  dropping  jaw,  those  dead  white  lips. 

' 1 1  say  we  surrender, ' '  Squib  repeated  weak- 
ly. 

This  had  a  most  amazing  effect.  The  pro- 
fessor sprang  to  his  feet,  snapped  his  teeth  and 

174 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

reeled  backward,  beating  his  head  with  clenched 
fists  and  uttering  frightful,  guttural  noises.  He 
pointed  a  long,  bony  finger  at  Squib,  who  stared 
foolishly,  transfixed  with  sudden  horror. 

"You — you,"  he  hissed,  rushing  up  to  that 
trembling  youth  and  shaking  his  thin  hands  be- 
fore his  face.  "My  God!  So  you  Ve  come  out 
of  the  grave  I  sent  you  to."  He  laughed  more 
fiendishly  than  ever.  "So  you  're  after  me 
again,  Smith.  We  '11  see.  We  '11  see."  He  fin- 
ished in  a  ghastly,  grating  chuckle,  and  stag- 
gered to  the  table. 

Squib,  as  the  chief  object  of  the  maniac's 
fury,  felt  an  icy  thrill  down  his  spine.  For 
there  was  no  longer  any  doubt  of  the  pro- 
fessor's condition.  He  was  mad — stark,  staring 
mad.  And  Squib  did  not  like  to  think  of  the 
probable  cause  of  it  all.  He  had  heard  grew- 
some  tales  of  the  recurrence  of  insanity — blood- 
curdling stories  of  the  freak  reactions  of 
the  brain  to  suddenly  projected  incidents  of  the 
past.  The  story  of  the  forgotten  murder  came 
back  to  him  like  a  nightmare.  Well,  he  forgave 
Bugs  Landon,  whatever  happened — Bugs,  who 
should  have  known  better  than  to  allow  this 
crime.    A  choking  lump  came  into  his  throat. 

175 


MAROON  TALES 

He  would  have  liked  to  see  the  looks  on 
faces  of  the  others,  sitting  alongside  in  their 
absurd  clownish  costumes.  He  tried  to  call  for 
help.     He  couldn't.     Why  didn't  the  others? 

It  was  a  time  for  action.  Squib  strained 
desperately  at  his  straps,  exhaling  labored 
breath  through  set  teeth.  The  straps  seemed 
all  the  stronger.  He  tried  to  rattle  the  legs 
of  the  bench  by  violently  wriggling  his  body. 
He  might  as  well  have  attempted  to  lift  himself 
by  the  hair.  The  legs  of  the  Baluchistanese 
chair  of  death  were  nailed  firmly  to  the  floor. 

"All  pull  together  when  I  say  three/ '  he 
managed  to  whisper  to  Al.  ' i  Ready  now — one — 
two—  " 

Another  paralyzing  shock  from  the  unseen 
battery  silenced  him.  He  relaxed,  limp  and 
weak. 

The  lunatic,  leaning  against  the  table,  bared 
his  teeth  in  a  diabolical  grin  and  chuckled 
again,  that  awful,  rasping  chuckle.  It  was 
worse  than  the  raving  laugh.  He  stood  there 
and  looked  at  Squib  for  a  moment,  and  then, 
with  a  composure  that  was  portentous  and 
evil,  he  minced  over  to  the  sweating  sophomore 

176 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

and  forced  open  his  month  with  a  powerful  dig 
of  thumb  and  forefinger. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  am  so  abominably 
cautious/ '  he  mumbled,  as  he  slipped  a  wooden 
gag  between  Squib's  teeth.  He  tied  the  gag- 
strings  in  a  double  knot  and  dexterously  ad- 
justed a  piece  of  cording  about  Squib's  neck, 
illustrating  its  effectiveness  as  a  choker  by  sev- 
eral sharp  tugs.  Then  he  tottered  into  the 
wardrobe  and  returned  with  an  armful  of 
queer,  jangling  objects,  which  he  dumped  on  the 
floor.  He  made  the  trip  several  times. 
Some  of  the  objects  were  large  and  heavy. 
When  he  had  thrown  the  last  load  upon  the  pile, 
he  dropped  down  beside  it  and  began  to  as- 
sort it  in  formal  rows  at  the  feet  of  the  Raz- 
Dazians.  It  was  a  strange  mess  of  rusty,  red- 
stained  scraps,  but  Squib  knew  well  enough 
what  it  meant.  It  was  a  collection  of  medieval 
instruments  of  torture! 

Squib  had  first  seen  the  things  when  they 
were  exhibited  in  one  of  the  museums,  and  he 
remembered  the  realistic  lecture  on  "The  In- 
quisition ' '  which  had  been  given  on  that  oc- 
casion. He  didn't  imagine  then  that  they  might 
belong  to  Lampy.    There  they  were.    There  was 

177 


MAROON  TALES 


the  thumbscrew,  a  wicked  little  vise  of  iron  with 
sharp  teeth  that  bit  and  wrenched  the  joints 
sickeningly;  and  the  rack,  a  ladder  and  rope 
and  windlass  contrivance — they  called  it  the 
"little  horse' ' — that  twisted  the  shoulders  from 
their  sockets,  and  crunched  the  bones,  and  tore 
away  the  ligaments  and  the  muscles  of  the 
chest.  A  girl  had  fainted  during  the  lecture. 
And  there  were  the  nail-studded  "iron  boots' ' 
that  sank  into  the  flesh  of  the  legs  and  cracked 
the  shins ;  and  the  spurs  for  mutilating  the  feet ; 
and  tongue-tearers ;  and  fiendish  little  devices 
for  pulling  out  the  nails ;  and  spiked  leather  col- 
lars that  choked  and  strangled  slowly  and 
cruelly ;  and  torches  that  burned  the  flesh  to  the 
bone;  and  executioners'  swords  all  spotted  with 
the  silent  evidence  of  dungeon  tragedies. 

The  yellow  candle  sputtered  and  flared,  rock- 
ing the  shadows  on  the  walls.  And  Squib  sat, 
painfully  erect  in  his  imported  chair,  scarcely 
breathing;  gazing,  fascinated,  at  the  frightful 
rows  of  rusty,  bloody  relics,  and  at  the  creature 
sitting  there  beside  them. 

Suddenly  the  madman  rose  and  wheeled 
about.  A  hideous,  green,  goggle-eyed  mask 
covered  his  face.  Through  the  gaping,  white- 
ns 


THE  INDISCRETIONS  OF  YVONNE 

rimmed  mouth  of  it  came  terrible  snarls  and 
the  sound  of  grinding  teeth.  The  maniac 
stooped  to  the  implements  of  torture  and 
grabbed  up  a  sword  as  he  lurched  dizzily  toward 
his  victims.  He  raised  the  weapon  and  brought 
it  down  again  and  again.  At  each  blow  there 
was  a  splintering  of  wood,  a  swaying  of  the 
bench  of  death,  and  a  strange  sound  that  was 
almost  like  a  stifled  laugh — then  silence.  Squib 
cringed. 

The  madman  stopped  in  front  of  Squib,  drew 
back  a  step,  and  raised  the  rusty  blade. 

What  was  that!  Squib  started  violently. 
Some  one  was  running  up  the  stairs.  Some 
one  was  coming!  The  steps  scraped  rapidly 
along  the  hall.  The  sword  was  poised.  A  hand 
was  at  the  door. 

There  was  a  sudden  crash  of  steel.  Pitch 
darkness  and  the  sound  of  a  heavy  fall.  Squib 
closed  his  eyes.  When  he  opened  them,  the 
electric  chandelier  was  a  dazzling  sun.  In  its 
full  glare  stood  Professor  Ezekiel  Sway- 
bill  Lampsen  in  immaculate  evening  dress, 
rubbing  his  hands  and  smiling  cheerfully  at 
Bugs  Landon,  who  was  ruefully  brushing  the 
dust  from  a  shiny  black  frock  coat  of  wretched 

179 


MAROON  TALES 

size  and  cut.  Four  clowns  with  ridiculous, 
painted  faces  were  loosening  the  straps  of  the 
torture-chair,  and  the  gag. 

" Brace  up,  Squib/ '  said  Landon.  "You  're 
still  alive.,, 

Squib  did  not  feel  like  bracing  up.  But  he 
was  a  sophomore,  and  he  did  his  best. 

"Well,"  he  said  tremulously,  as  he  mopped 
his  forehead  with  the  purple  table-spread,  "I 
suppose  you  fellows  really  think  you  had  me 
scared." 


180 


BIG  BOYS  AND  LITTLE  BOYS 

I 

A    S    AN    alumnus "    drawled    Lamed, 

■**■  surrendering  his  hat  to  the  knock- 
kneed  waiter  and  seating  himself  in  the  fourth 
chair  at  the  square  table,  "as  an  alumnus — 
I  'm  as  hungry  as  a  spotted  giraffe." 

"As  an  alumnus,"  suggested  Norton,  "you 
had  better  pound  on  wood  or  they  '11  take 
that  pretty  sheepskin  thing  away  from  you. 
You  've  been  working  it  to  death  for  the  last 
six  hours.  Hasn't  he?"  nodding  across  the 
table  to  Landon  and  Walters. 

"Well,"  insisted  Lamed,  "as  an  alumnus,  I 
can  talk  all  I  please.  And  as  I  said  before,  I  'm 
so  starved  I  could  eat  a  fifty-cent  meal,  includ- 
ing a  pint  of  colored  vinegar." 

"Which  is  just  what  you  are  about  to  receive 
if  I  know  the  haunts  of  the  table  d'  hote,"  said 
Walters. 

"Somebody  told  me  this  place  was  a 
wonder,"  continued  Lamed.  "If  it  is  not,  I  'm 
liable  to  commit  murder,"  and  the  big  tackle 

181 


MAROON   TALES 

glanced  around  with  unsavage  eyes.    "Some 
joint  for  a  French  restaurant,  isn't  it!" 

"Yes,  it  is n'V '  said  Walters.    "Quite  con 
tinental — not. ' ' 

The  four  new  graduates  surveyed  the  scene 
with  deliberate  interest,  bestowing  equal  at 
tention  upon  the  mural  embellishments  and  the 
after-theater  crowd.  For  a  rather  remarkable 
taste  had  arrayed  the  yellow-tinted  walls.  The 
chief  decorative  effects  were  several  red  and 
green  lithographic  advertisements  of  oysters 
from  Baltimore,  a  somber  cut  of  "Clay's  Fare- 
well to  the  Senate,  ■ '  a  very  thin  trotter,  a  smirk 
ing,  pink-winged,  somewhat  corpulent  lady 
scooping  a  dishpan  of  goldfish  from  a  mirrored 
spring,  and  a  "Baby  Stuart"  nailed  in  sweet  in- 
fant helplessness  above  the  mechanical  piano, 
which  was  ripping  out  the  "Miserere"  in  fast 
waltz  time. 

Back  and  forth  among  his  guests  moved 
the  proprietor,  a  huge,  fierce-whiskered  man 
whose  size  ran  largely  to  front.  At  the  tables 
most  of  the  late  diners  were  volubly  convers- 
ing; at  one  a  group  of  musicians,  gestic- 
ulating and  palming ;  at  another  a  woman  feed- 
ing stringy  bits  of  salad  to  a  slightly  soiled 

182 


BIG  BOYS  AND  LITTLE  BOYS 

poodle  and  a  very  soiled  child;  at  a  third,  five 
vaudeville  girls  who  looked  tired  and  blew 
cigarette  smoke  through  their  noses — one  of  the 
girls  was  reading  doggedly  from  a  torn  paper- 
backed book,  never  lifting  eye  from  page,  form- 
ing each  word  with  her  lips  and  following  to  the 
next  with  a  slow,  inexorable  finger.  From  the 
piano  Leonora  screamed  right  lustily,  and  Man- 
rico,  pent  in  his  dungeon  cell,  answered  in  kind. 
The  passing  bell  clanged  fitfully  on  a  tuneless 
bass  note. 

He  of  the  interfering  knees  stopped  bellowing 
orders  through  the  swinging  doors  and  ap- 
proached. What  would  the  gentlemen  have? 
Was  there,  then,  a  choice?  No?  Very  well. 
The  gentlemen  would  permit  him  to  serve  the 
regular  prison  fare. 

"  Really,  I  'm  not  wild  about  this  place/ ' 
grumbled  Larned,  looking  after  the  patient 
waiter.  "I  don't  think  I  care  for  it — as  an 
alumnus. ' ' 

"Say,  Ted,"  advised  Landon,  "if  you  are 
so  overwhelmed  by  your  new  handle,  you  ought 
to  make  a  great  speech  tomorrow  night.  I  pre- 
sume you  have  it  all  written  out." 

Larned  wrinkled  his  brow.    "I  M  rather  be 

183 


GABOON   TALES 

burned  at  the  stake  than  make  a  speech;  you 
know  that,  Bugs.  And  you  're  not  going  to 
shove  the  spouting  act  my  way,  thank  you 
kindly." 

' ■ That 's  all  right,  too,"  said  Landon.  "I  'm 
no  speechifier  myself,  but  we  all  have  to 
talk — as  alumni,  you  know.  I  tried  to  discour- 
age the  whole  affair,  but  I  couldn't  do  it.  Did 
you  see  those  invitations?" 

The  invitations  had  read:  "The  Four  Pillars 
Of  The  Temple  Are  Leaving.  Bugs  Landon, 
Ted  Larned,  Norry  Norton,  Pop  Walters.  Edu- 
cated Oratory.  Friday  Night."  The  brief  notice 
would  bring  together  a  whole  throng  of  Bhos, 
from  grads.  to  freshmen — the  ones  they  had 
known  best  in  college,  and  therefore  liked  most. 
A  number  of  the  fellows  were  staying  in  town 
and  cutting  summer  vacations  in  order  to  be 
present.  It  was  to  be  an  important  affair;  it 
would  be  necessary,  the  fellows  said,  to  do 
justice  to  the  name  that  had  stuck  to  the  four 
of  them  for  so  long.  It  was  from  a  half- 
sentimental  regard  for  the  feelings  of  the  in- 
separables that  they  had  been  left  to  them- 
selves on  Convocation  night;  they  probably 
would  want  to  talk  and  talk,  the  Rhos  said,  and 

184 


BIG  BOYS  AND  LITTLE  BOYS 

maybe  weep  on  one  another's  shoulders,  for 
they  might  not  be  together  again  for  a  long 
time.  So  Ted  and  Pop  and  Bugs  and  Norry 
had  been  told  to  go  it  alone  for  the  last  time, 
their  friends  supplying  them  with  an  itinerary 
that  would  have  required  a  week  to  fulfill. 
And  they  had  chosen  only  a  theater  and  a  bite 
to  eat  at  the  queer  little  French  restaurant  just 
below  the  loop. 

The  four  Pillars  certainly  were  not  so 
cavalier  as  usual.  Big,  generous,  bushy-headed 
Ted  Larned  had  forced  his  ringing  laugh  all 
evening,  and  white-topped  Pop  Walters,  the  in- 
veterate humorist  of  the  steely  eyes  and  the 
straight  lips,  had  not  made  nearly  so  many  of 
those  remarks  of  his — remarks  that  invariably 
were  considered  cynical  by  people  who  did  not 
know  him.  Landon's  gravity  was  not  especially 
odd;  he  always  looked  more  or  less  that  way. 
And  Norton,  hardy,  tough-skinned  Norry  Nor- 
ton, made  no  secret  of  his  belief  that  the  whole 
thing  was  a  " damned  shame.' ' 

"Well,"  said  Larned,  after  due  deliberation, 
"I  '11  tell  you  how  I  feel  about  it.  It  may  sound 
soft,  but  I  'm  dead  anxious  to  leave  a  sort  of 

185 


MAKOON    TALES 

lasting  impression  with  the  younger  fellows 
You  know  what  I  mean.    And " 

"You  want  to  be  remembered  for  your  kinc 
deeds  and  your  fine,  manly  character  which  only 
the  angels  know?"  jeered  Walters. 

"Yes,  that  's  about  right.  I  don't  fancy  go 
ing  down  in  history  as  the  two-hundred- 
pound  tackle  and  all  that.  I  'd  rather  b 
stacked  up  higher.  I  suppose  it  's  kind  of  silly 
of  me,  isn't  it?     How  do  you  feel?" 

The  others  felt  much  the  same  way.    They  di 
not  think  it  soft. 

"But   what   has    that   got   to    do    with   the 
speech!"  demanded  Walters. 

1 '  I  was  wondering  why  we  could  n  't  take  this 
opportunity  to  tell  just  where  we  stand  on  some 
things,"  said  the  football  man.  "I  don't  in 
tend  to  put  in  a  bid  for  a  statue,  but  I  believe 
I  shall  deliver  a  little  sermon,  now  that  I  com< 
to  think  of  it." 

"Fine,"   said   Landon.     "I   don't   think   il 
would  hurt  either  you  or  the  youngsters.   I  '1 
do  the  same  thing.     We  needn't  be  afraid  o 
overdoing  it.  It  will  be  good  for  us,  and  it  may 
correct  a  few  little  misapprehensions  that  som 
of  the  crowd  hold.     We  have  been  a  little — 

186 


BIG  BOYS  AND  LITTLE  BOYS 

well — easy-going  in  our  day,  or  it  may  have 
struck  some  people  that  way.  Why,  I  should  n  't 
wonder  if  some  of  the  freshmen  regard  us  as 
the  original  ' college  scrape'  boys." 

* '  Eight,  Bugs, '  >  put  in  Norton.  ' ( That  fresh- 
man Grant  asked  me  only  the  other  day  if  he 
might  not  'go  along  sometime, '  as  if  he  had 
been  begging  a  ticket  to  a  private  exhibition  of 
old  Beelzebub.  He's  already  beginning  to 
search  for  adventure.  And  then  those  fresh- 
men of  ours  have  been  getting  into  too  many 
scrapes  lately.  They  look  innocent  and  say 
they  Ve  been  terribly  misjudged  every  time 
they  get  caught. ' ' 

"The  appearance  of  evil!"  Walters  ex- 
claimed. "My,  oh  my,  what  a  grand  old  loop- 
hole it  is.  Fact  is,  though,  you  can't  always 
avoid  it." 

"Oh,  I  guess  you  can  keep  out  of  trouble  in 
college  if  you  want  to,"  remarked  Larned, 
whose  straightforward  code  comprehended 
neither  mysteries  nor  complications. 

' l  Coming  back  to  the  point, ' '  breezed  Landon, 
"we  might  say  a  few  things  about  studying 
once  in  a  while,  but  I  guess  they  know  that  by 
this  time.    It  will  not  be  necessary  to  discuss 

187 


MAROON  TALES 

their  other  duties  to  Chicago — we  've  done  that 
already.  Just  'heart  to  heart/  as  the  preacher 
said."  With  his  elbows  on  the  table,  Bugs 
finished:  "It  does  seem  strange  to  see  all  those 
long-legged  little  fellows  doing  stunts  in  col- 
lege. Seems  as  if  they  get  younger  and 
younger  every  year." 

1  '  Well,  they  don  't, ' '  said  Walters.  ' « The  av- 
erage age  of  freshmen  is  increasing  along  with 
their  sophistication,  so  cheer  up.  Furthermore 
the  'little  fellows '  would  be  awfully  bored  if 
they  thought  they  were  being  analyzed  by  a 
bunch  of  six-hour  grads.  The  trouble  with  us 
is  that  we  can't  see  the  babies  in  true  focus — 
like  the  coat  that  Ted  wore  every  day  while  he 
was  growing  so,  without  noticing  how  small  it 
was  getting.  Remember  how  Williams  asked 
you  if  you  were  hiring  out  as  the  human 
stretcher,  Ted?  Let  'em  grow  up  in  their  own 
way,  and  don't  force  a  lot  of  hothouse  views 
on  them.     Personally,  I  believe  the  best  ones 

will  come  out  all  right 1  and  other  famous 

pedagogical  experts.  The  faculty  seem  to  hold 
the  same  cold-blooded  opinion.' ' 

"It  's    wrong,    anyway,"    objected    Norton. 

188 


BIG  BOYS  AND  LITTLE  BOYS 

"What  do  people  go  to  college  for  if  not  to  be 
helped  f" 

"To  help  themselves." 

"Platitude  number  ninety-seven  in  the  i Edu- 
cators' Beady  Handbook/  "  said  Norry. 

"Well,"  asked  Larned,  "are  we  going  to 
preach  at  the  party?" 

"We  are,"  Landon  assured  him. 

"We  are,"  said  Norry,  fervently. 

"Sure,  I  '11  assist  in  the  good  work,"  prom- 
ised Walters.  "It 's  all  moonshine,  but  we  '11 
have  plenty  of  time  to  blush  about  it  after  we 
get  out  into  the  and  so  forth.  And  I  '11  guar- 
antee to  draw  more  tears  than  the  rest  of  you 
combined.  It  is  agreed  then  that  we  are  to  de- 
part in  a  halo  of  ethical  glory.  We  are  to  wind 
up  our  education  as  the  four  bright,  unspotted 
lights,  the  salvation  screamers,  worthy  ex- 
amples, and  so  on.  Bight.  Now,  let's  eat  some 
of  this  green  stuff. ' ' 

The  Pillars  felt  quite  serious  about  the  fare- 
well smoker  and  their  part  in  it — even  Walters, 
who  dreaded  what  he  called  "sloppiness,"  and 
made  fun  of  his  finer  feelings — because  it  in- 
timately concerned  many  friends  of  whom  they 
were   fond.     They  might   have    sat   there   all 

189 


MAROON  TALES 


night  discussing  their  own  moral  solidity  bu 
for  the  arrival  of  the  salad  and  the  performance 
of  a  startling  divertisement  by  one  of  the  cafe 
patrons.  This  person,  aroused  by  the  operatic 
selection,  stuck  his  round,  tipsy  face  into  the 
squat,  paper-trimmed  stove,  and  began  to  sing 
in  a  loud,  doleful  tone.  He  was  pulled  out  by 
the  coat  and  assisted  to  his  table,  where 
he  was  received  by  his  party  with  admiring  joy, 
The  Pillars  smiled  and  began  to  " remember' ' 
things,  for  they  could  feel  the  time  slipping 
past. 

"Remember    the    time V9     Clear  back 

to  freshman  year  went  Norry  and  Ted  and 
Bugs  and  Pop — back  to  the  very  first  Quarter 
when  they  all  lived  together  in  Snell  and  wore 
one  another's  clothes  and  smoked  one  another's 
pipes  and  woke  one  another  with  violent 
methods,  including  cold  water  and  hot-foot 
They  remembered  the  time  they  discovered, 
while  dressing  for  a  grand  freshman  function, 
that  the  common  wardrobe  contained  but  thre 
dress  suits,  and  how  Bugs  was  left  out  on  th 
draw  and  sat  around  until  early  morning  in  th 
pomp  of  pearl  studs  and  bath-robe,  waiting  i 
vain  for  Pop,  who  had  promised  to  return  and 


190 


BIG  BOYS  AND  LITTLE  BOYS 

give  up  the  clothes  in  time  for  Bugs  to  get  a 
dance  or  two;  and  the  time  they  had  Frank 
Beam  arrested  for  " holding  up"  the  fellows 
on  dark  nights,  and  how  Beam  proceeded  to  en- 
gage expensive  counsel,  telegraph  his  parents, 
pack  his  trunk  and  otherwise  excite  himself. 
They  recalled  even  the  time  they  trudged  three 
miles  through  the  snow  to  return  some  signs 
they  had  stolen,  Pop  having  declared  that  Ben- 
jamin Franklin  or  Thomas  Jefferson  had  once 
done  the  same  thing  with  a  pig  or  a  loaf  of 
bread,  he  could  n't  say  which. 

"Remember  old  Sleeping  Samuel V\  mused 
Walters,  and  Samuel  was  promptly  remem- 
bered ;  poor,  tired  old  Samuel,  whose  useless  ef- 
forts to  secure  sufficient  rest  resulted  in  his 
going  about  in  a  red-lidded  daze  most  of  the 
time,  saying  little  except  to  reiterate  that  he  was 
"almost  even  with  the  clock  now,"  and  the 
elaborately  flimsy  excuses  he  evolved  in  support 
of  his  aversion  for  class  lectures ;  how  he  would 
say  that  there  was  one  day  in  the  week  when  his 
nine-thirty  did  not  meet  and  he  feared  that  was 
the  day,  and  if  it  ivas,  there  would  be  no  earthly 
sense  in  going  to  it,  and  if  it  was  not,  he  would 
be  late  anyway  and  get  marked  absent.    Then 

191 


MAROON  TALES 

lie  would  wink  his  left  eye — no,  his  right  eye — 
as  if  he  half  realized  how  absurd  he  was,  and 
flop  over  and  go  to  sleep  again  in  that  everlast- 
ing striped  brown  quilt.  And  there  was  Hein- 
rich,  in  sophomore  year,  who  quoted  proverbs, 
which  the  fellows  would  reverse  or  twist  into 
whimsical  nonsense,  much  to  his  bewilderment ; 
it  always  took  Heiny  a  second  or  two  to  remem- 
ber whether  he  had  said  the  right  thing.  And 
then  came  Alfred,  called  The  "Wise,  who  pro- 
nounced everything  correctly  and  quoted  the 
classics  and  said,  "I  fear  you  have  neglected 
your  Hegel,"  and  never  could  understand  why 
the  fellows  laughed. 

"Do  you  suppose  the  fellows  will  all  be  back 
next  year — all  but  us?"  asked  Norton,  fumb- 
ling with  a  small  coffee-cup. 

" Don't  know,"  said  Landon.  "Pour  the 
brandy  over  the  sugar  and  light  it.  No  thanks — 
I  don't  like  cognac." 

The  Pillars  talked  devoutly  of  the  glories  of 
their  early  days  in  college;  of  the  fine  flower 
that  flourished  on  the  campus  in  sophomore 
year,  for  instance,  when  the  most  wonderful 
persons  loafed  in  front  of  Cobb  and  spoke  fcfe 

192 


BIG  BOYS  AND  LITTLE  BOYS 

mass  meetings  in  Kent  and  Mandel,  and  per- 
formed amazingly  on  the  gridiron. 

Then  came  the  familiar  incidents  of  Class 
Day:  the  senior  play  and  the  senior  frolic  in 
Sleepy  Hollow  with  the  sack  and  pillow-races 
and  the  baseball  game.  Walters  had  fanned 
three  times  in  the  game  and  only  failed  to  make 
more  errors  because  of  his  limited  number  of 
chances.  Afterward  there  had  been  the  class 
luncheon,  and  a  lecture  on  "Independence"  by 
a  Doctor  of  Laws ;  and  the  bench  exercises,  with 
numerous  inaudible  addresses  by  scared  young 
men  and  women,  and  some  fine  jokes  which  most 
of  the  parents  applauded,  although  they  did  not 
understand.  Katherine  Snowden  had  been 
quite  successful  with  her  Class  History  speech, 
referring  proudly  to  the  vast  amount  of  learn- 
ing absorbed  by  "this  remarkable  class."  One 
of  the  senior  girls  said  that  Kitty  should  be 
an  authority  on  the  point,  since  she  owed  her 
degree  to  a  solid  week  of  cramming  such  as  Fos- 
ter Hall  never  before  had  witnessed.  She  had 
kept  up  bravely  on  a  diet  of  chocolate  and  crack- 
ers. And  how  everybody  had  strutted  and 
looked  pleased  at  Convocation!     The    Pillars 

193 


MAROON   TALES 

could  not  recall  why  they  had  felt  so   exaltec 
as  they  marched  into  Mandel. 

"I  feel  kind  of  gloomy/ '  Larned  remarked. 
"Let 's  talk  show.  I  thought  I  caught  a  new 
joke  by  the  comedian.  Did  you  get  it?  The 
mother-in-law  was  coming  to  visit  the  family, 
and  the  wife  was  glad  and  the  husband  was 
not.    Clever  little  thing,  eh?" 

"I  know  a  nice  little  story  about  a  murder 
and  suicide,"  suggested  Norton. 

"Save  it,"  advised  Landon. 

"Remember,  fellows,  that  this  is  not  a  fu- 
neral," said  Walters.  "It  is  the  bright  flower- 
ing— grand  opportunities — now  about  to  enter 
more  fully — awfully  jolly  old  chap,  that 
orator." 

Pop  said  it  somewhat  dismally,  and  the  alum- 
ni fell  silent.  People  were  leaving  the  restau- 
rant. The  dirty  poodle,  attached  to  a  leash, 
was  pulling  the  soiled  child  toward  the  door. 
The  intense  young  woman  had  closed  her 
book  and  was  winding  a  wrinkled  veil  about 
her  neck.  The  proprietor  turned  down  the  lights 
on  one  side  of  the  room. 

"Let 's  have  a  little  decent  fizz,"  said 
Walters. 

194 


BIG  BOYS  AND  LITTLE  BOYS 

The  fizz  was  brought.  It  bubbled  up  merrily 
through  the  hollow  stems.  The  rims  of  the 
glasses  clicked  softly,  one  against  the  other,  and 
at  each  musical  contact,  two  boys  glanced 
swiftly  across  and  into  clear-gazing  eyes.  The 
alumni  sipped,  and  looked  down  at  the  table 
a  good  deal. 

After  a  while  Lamed  pushed  back  his  chair. 
It  scraped  harshly  on  the  floor.  Then  Ted 
stood  up,  the  whole  two  yards  of  him. 

"Let  's  hike,"  he  said. 

"  Where  ?"  asked  Pop. 

"Home.  Let  *s  all  go  out  to  the  house — to- 
gether— like  we  used  to." 


195 


MAROON   TALES 


II 


The  Four  Pillars  of  the  Temple  strolled 
toward  the  street-car  with  the  satisfying  knowl- 
edge that  they  had  voluntarily  celebrated  a 
rather  privileged  occasion  in  an  altogether  de- 
corous manner.  They  felt  just  a  bit  righteous 
over  this  fact,  but  that  was  because  they  were 
sincere.  They  were  not  hypocrites.  Larned, 
leading  the  way  through  the  unfamiliar  district, 
observed  that  they  had  been  mighty  decent  for 
Bachelors  of  Philosophy. 

The  narrow,  cross-town  street  interested  the 
Pillars.  There  were  gaudy  little  restaurants, 
advertising  a  great  variety  of  food  at  wonder- 
fully low  prices ;  and  a  shooting-gallery  with  a 
black-and-white  menagerie  scene  in  which  rab- 
bits and  doves  chased  each  other  around  a 
never-weary  target-wheel  to  the  nervous  music 
that  is  peculiar  to  shooting-galleries;  and  " pen- 
ny arcades"  where  fashionable  young  women, 
adorned  with  diamond  earrings  and  toothpicks, 
sorted  towers  of  coins,  while  dirty  urchins 
cranked  the  disappointing  picture-machines; 
and  fruit  stands  where  small  men  with  bristling 

196 


BIG  BOYS  AND  LITTLE  BOYS 

mustaches  stood  guard  over  pyramids  of 
oranges  and  pails  of  sun-bleached,  weather- 
beaten  chocolates. 

From  the  avenue  of  horrors,  they  emerged 
into  the  fringe  of  down-town  State  Street, 
where  the  lights  were  brighter  and  the  people 
noisier. 

"This  is  a  fine  place  for  you  to  be  in,  Ted," 
taunted  Walters. 

"It  *s  Whisky  Row,"  answered  Larned.  "I 
guess  you  children  never  have  been  here.  I 
went  through  it  once  with  a  fellow  who  was  in- 
vestigating it  for  some  society.  I  think  he 
wanted  me  as  an  anti-bouncer.  There  's  one 
slug  down  here  who  would  make  the  finest  full- 
back ever — regular  human  catapult." 

They  walked  slowly  along  the  ugly  street, 
peering  curiously  at  the  electric  arches  and 
signs  of  saloons  sandwiched  ironically  between 
pawn  shops  and  second-hand  establishments. 
The  contending  beat  of  "music"  came  from 
each  gleaming  entrance,  the  shriek  of  an  impu- 
dent phonograph  clamoring  from  one,  the  de- 
spondent saw-saw  of  an  orchestra  from  the 
next,  the  whole  blending  into  a  dissonance  that 
was    weird    and    depressing.      Many    people 

197 


MAROON   TALES 

swarmed  along  the  walks.    Most  of  the  peoph 
had  queer  faces. 

"Kind  of  reeks,  this  place/ '  Norton  re- 
marked. 

"Sure  does,"  said  Walters.  "By  the  way, 
look  at  the  bout/ ' 

Two  men  had  begun  to  kick  and  curse  each 
other,  and  the  crowd  was  rushing  to  see  the 
fun.  The  men  were  rolling  and  clawing  in  the 
street.  One  of  them  resembled  an  over-ripe 
strawberry,  his  yellow,  stubbled  beard  pricking 
through  a  swollen  red  face;  the  other,  almost 
any  kind  of  decayed  fruit  or  vegetable,  for  his 
facial  color  scheme  was  wholly  indeterminate, 
but  for  a  small  spot  of  blood  on  his  cheek, 
and  his  eyes  swam  sickeningly,  and  he  had  no 
eyebrows  at  all.  A  fat  policeman  broke  through 
the  crowd,  separated  the  combatants,  and  led 
them,  whimpering,  to  the  corner.  The  police- 
man used  his  club  to  force  his  way,  and  Larned 
got  a  sharp  tap  on  the  shoulder. 

1 1  Look  out,  there, ' '  Ted  flashed.  ' '  Keep  your 
stick  to  yourself/ ' 

The  officer  turned  an  indignant  gaze  on  the 
Pillars  and  muttered  something  as  he  proceeded 
to  the  corner  with  his  captives. 

198 


BIG  BOYS  AND  LITTLE  BOYS 

"Careful,  Teddy/ '  warned  Norton.  "Don't 
get  us  into  a  free-for-all  with  that  giant  egg — I 
should  say,  with  that  ellipsoid.  He  looks  like  a 
bad  one. ' f 

"I'd  like  to  break  his  shell  for  him," 
scowled  Ted,  leading  the  Pillars  across  the 
street  toward  the  Wabash  Avenue  car. 

The  Four  Pillars  halted  on  the  far  corner 
to  watch  a  most  amazing  procession  of  intoxi- 
cated persons,  who  appeared  to  be  going  home 
for  the  night.  The  tipsy  ones  strung  past  in 
a  continuous  file,  like  fantastic  marchers  in 
some  burlesque  ceremonial  passing  the  review- 
ing stand  at  well-timed  intervals.  Some  tried 
to  walk  erect  and  some  made  no  attempts; 
some  mumbled  to  themselves  and  some  cursed 
weakly.  One  was  a  cripple,  on  crutches — it 
looked  strange  to  see  a  one-legged  man  stagger- 
ing that  way. 

"That 's  pitiful,"  commented  Larned.  "I 
wouldn't  mind  doing  something  for  them  if  I 
could.    Got  a  notion  to  speak  to  one  of  them." 

"Sure — reform  them,"  said  Pop.  "That 
seems  to  be  your  specialty  tonight." 

"Here  's  the  very  boy,"  laughed  Ted,  point- 
ing to  a  chubby,  crimson-faced  old  fellow  who 

199 


:aroon  tales 

was  staggering  toward  the  corner  with  consid- 
erable difficulty.  The  old  man  seemed  to  be  en- 
joying himself  vastly.  He  rolled  and  swayed, 
and  evidently  derived  much  amusement  from 
each  lurching  recovery.  He  would  laugh  glee- 
fully and  then  slyly  stop  his  mouth  with  a  fat 
palm,  leering  absurdly  at  nothing.  As  he  came 
even  with  the  Pillars,  he  screwed  up  his  face  in 
a  ludicrous  effort  to  convey  some  message  to 
the  corner  lamp-post. 

"He  's  a  good-natured  old  dog,"  grinned 
Pop. 

"Hey,  there,  old  Dionysus/ '  Larned  called, 
and  the  alumni  sauntered  to  meet  the  frolic- 
some one. 

"I  think "  began   Ted.     But   it   is   not 

certain  what  he  thought,  for  at  that  instant  a 
heavy  hand  descended  upon  him,  and  he  whirled 
round  to  encounter  the  unfriendly  gaze  of  the 
giant  ellipsoid. 

"What  do  youse  want?"  snorted  the  in- 
truder. 

"We're  just  looking.  We  don't  care  to 
buy,"  returned  Walters.  Larned  did  not  feel 
like  answering  the  gruff  officer. 

I  thought  so,"  said  the  ellipsoid.     "Just 

200 


n 


BIG  BOYS  AND  LITTLE  BOYS 

lookin'  is  good — lookin'  for  somethiIl,  easy.  Up 
to  your  old  tricks.  Well,  I  've  been  lookin'  fer 
youse,  I  have." 

"I  beg  your  pardon ?"  smiled  Pop,  with  a 
degree  of  politeness  that  was  hardly  neces- 
sary. 

"Oh,  you're  awful  innocent,  ain't  youse ?" 
sneered  the  arm  of  the  law.  "I  suppose  youse 
ain't  the  parties  that 's  been  hangin'  around 
here  fer  two  weeks.  I  suppose  you  was  n't  try- 
in'  to  start  a  riot  over  there,"  directing  a  spat- 
ulate  finger  toward  the  scene  of  the  drunken 
street  fight.  "If  you  ain't  the  same  parties, 
how  does  it  come  that  I  'm  talkin'  to  youse 
here?"  The  ellipsoid  expanded  with  conscious 
pride  at  what  evidently  considered  an  incon- 
trovertible argument. 

"You  talk  like  a  squirrel,"  blurted  Norry. 
"We  certainly  have  not  been  hanging  around 
here  for  two  weeks." 

The  officer  saw  fit  to  overlook  this  interrup- 
tion. "What  'd  youse  yell  at  this  guy  fer?" 
he  demanded  of  Lamed.  "You  're  a  smooth 
worker,  you  are.  Did  youse  get  what  you  was 
after?" 

201 


[AKOON   TALES 

Ted  did  not  understand  this,  but  the  derelict 
was  wiser. 

"They  cleaned  me,"  blubbered  the  tramp, 
turning  out  two  bottomless  pockets. 

"Shut  up,"  yelled  the  policeman,  rewarding 
the   old  man  with  a  kick.    "Who  's   a   doin 
this?"  Turning  on  Walters,  "I  '11  learn  youse, 
I  will." 

"Pardon  me  again,"  replied  Pop  in  the  icily 
deferential  tone  that  always  betrayed  angry 
disturbances  in  the  deepest  wells  of  his  wrath. 
* '  Forgive  my  mentioning  it,  but  your  use  of  the 
verb  to  learn  is  not  permissible,  even  collo- 
quially.   You  are  extremely  inelegant." 

This  bit  of  humor  seemed  to  displease  the 
patrolman.  He  immediately  told  Pop  what  he 
thought  of  him.  What  he  thought  of  Pop  was 
very  picturesque  and  ungrammatical.  The  Pil- 
lars, believing  themselves  insulted,  returned 
language  which  should  have  reduced  the  ellip- 
soid to  tears,  but  did  not.  At  the  very  height  of 
one  of  his  extravagant  compliments,  Pop  was 
suddenly  seized  by  his  light  flannel  trousers, 
whirled  rudely  through  the  air,  and  tossed  upon 
the  sidewalk  beside  the  intoxicated  old  man. 
Then  the  Pillars  heard  a  shrill  whistle,  and  saw 

202 


BIG  BOYS  AND  LITTLE  BOYS 

a  small,  wiry  policeman  running  toward  them. 
The  new  arrival  stood  guard  while  the  ellipsoid 
muttered  into  a  blue  box  on  the  corner. 

"What 's  that  fathead  up  to!"  panted  Nor- 
ton.   "Are  we  arrested f" 

Lamed  and  Landon  were  not  certain.  "I  'm 
sure  I  don't  know,"  said  Walters,  inspecting 
his  ruined  trousers.  "I  think,  however,  that 
the  giant  egg  is  going  to  do  something  nice  for 
us.    He  seems  so  pleasant  and  congenial.' ' 

"Fergit  it,"  advised  the  ellipsoid. 

"Are  you  joking  with  us,  or  what  *s  up,  any- 
way?" Norry  asked  the  officer. 

'  '  They  '11  be  here  in  a  minute,  now, ' 9  was  the 
answer. 

"Who?" 

The  arm  of  the  law  twirled  his  baton  and  re- 
fused to  impart  further  information.  Eepulsed, 
the  Pillars  held  a  consultation.  Vengeance  up- 
on the  fat  policeman  at  some  future  date  was 
openly  hinted.  Walters  ostentatiously  took  the 
numbers  of  the  officers'  stars,  whereat  the  of- 
ficers smiled. 

The  inebriated  marchers  were  now  slowly 
parading  back  to  the  corner  in  morbid  expecta- 
tion of  "the  wagon."     Old  Dionysus  seemed 

203 


MAEOON  TALES 

almost  convulsed  at  the  sight.  He  waved 
marvellously  dirty  handkerchief,  and  winked, 
and  pounded  his  hands  on  his  knees,  so  great 
was  his  mirth.  Only  when  he  saw  the  patrol- 
wagon  racing  toward  him,  did  he  desist.  Then, 
on  general  principles,  he  retired  rapidly  in  the 
direction  of  the  nearest  alley. 

The  patrol-wagon  backed  to  the  curb,  the  ser- 
geant and  his  assistant  jumped  down  and 
whisked  the  Pillars  into  the  dim  body  of  the 
vehicle,  held  a  mysterious  conference  with  the 
ellipsoid,  jumped  back  in,  slammed  the  door, 
and  told  the  driver  to  "let  'er  go,"  which  the 
driver  did.  The  "arrests"  did  not  enjoy  the 
ride.  Landon  maintained  a  deadly  silence, 
which  would  have  been  dignified  but  for  the 
rolling,  jolting  motion  of  the  patrol.  Larned's 
emotions  verged  on  disbelief  as  he  vainly  en- 
deavored to  discover  some  attractive  quality  in 
his  captors,  some  vulnerable  point  at  which 
sympathetic  humor  might  be  expended  to  ad- 
vantage. Norton  raged  and  sputtered.  Walters 
was  terribly  calm  and  collected  and  flippant 
and  pale.  He  even  managed  to  laugh  once  or 
twice.  With  an  exaggerated  gesture  that  proved 
how  self-possessed  he  was,  he  drew  out  his  sil- 

204 


BIG  BOYS  AND  LITTLE  BOYS 

ver  cigarette-case,  selected  a  monogrammed 
cigarette,  lighted  it,  and  puffed  a  mouthful  of 
perfumed  smoke. 

11  Douse  that  thing/ '  ordered  the  sergeant. 

Pop  smoked  on. 

" Douse  that,  young  feller.' ' 

Pop  glanced  at  the  officer  with  the  slightest 
hint  of  aggrieved  surprise,  as  one  whose  eye 
instinctively  lights  upon  and  flickers  instantly 
away  from  the  person  who  audibly  relishes  his 
soup.  He  really  did  not  feel  called  upon  to  obey 
this  boor.  So  the  rude  patrolman  " doused  it" 
himself  and  ground  the  little  white  stick  under 
his  heel. 

"I  'd  as  lief  see  a  son  of  mine  in  the  grave  as 
smokm*  one  of  them  coffin  nails,"  he  confided 
to  the  officer  across  the  aisle. 

"I  M  rather  be  cremated  than  be  a  distant  rel- 
ative of  yours,"  said  Pop,  carefully  picking  out 
another  nail  for  his  coffin  and  lighting  it. 
Whereupon  the  policeman  used  sterner  means 
than  mere  talk.  " Pop's  fillings  rattled,"  said 
Norry,  afterward.  The  rebuke  had  a  quelling 
effect  on  the  passengers.  The  jolting  wheels 
finally  stopped,  and  the  descent  was  effected. 
The  alumni  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  forbidding 

205 


MAROON   TALES 

brick  building  and  a  tall  depot-tower  wit! 
clock  in  it  as  they  were  led  past  a  receiving  line 
of  policemen  and  down  some  steps  into  a  dark, 
narrow  areaway.  They  stopped  before  a  large 
door,  which  opened  to  a  barred  gate  that  swung 
open. 

The  reception  committee  led  the  new  guests 
into  a  long  cement-floored  room  which  gave  the 
impression  of  many  rows  of  iron  doors  and 
much  alcohol  and  many  ugly  faces.  They 
brought  up  before  a  desk,  behind  which  sat  a 
functionary  who  seemed  to  be  tired  of  liv- 
ing, and  probably  was. 

"Here  they  are,"  said  the  sergeant. 
"They  Ve  been  a  bothering  Mulligan  fer  a  week 
and  Murphy  finally  got  'em.  They  Ve  been 
raisin '  hell  on  that  corner  fer  a  long  time." 

Larned  would  have  liked  to  meet  Mulligan 
and  Murphy. 

The  lockup-keeper  was  already  proferring 
small  printed  forms. 

"Sign  up,"  said  he;  "name,  age,  where  was 
you  born,  married  or  single." 

Landon  registered  first,  rejecting  a  sugges- 
tion that  he  use  another  name.  The  policeman 
looked  at  the  signature. 

206 


BIG  BOYS  AND  LITTLE  BOYS 

"Now,  that  you  know  who  his  father  is,  per- 
haps you  'd  better  stop  this  funny  business,"* 
said  Norton. 

"Fergit  it,"  said  the  sergeant.  "We  had  a 
foreign  noble  in  here  half  an  hour  ago  and  the 
son  of  a  U.  S.  president  before  him.  Makes 
no  difference.    Sign  up,  you." 

Norton  and  Larned  complied.  Walters 
tossed  an  engraved  visiting  card  on  the  desk, 
declaring  himself  incapable  of  reading  or 
writing.  The  officer  said  he  would  see  about 
that  later,  adding,  "Mulligan  '11  be  glad  to  see 
'em." 

"Mulligan  won't,"  replied  Larned.  "Be- 
cause we  never  set  foot  on  that  corner  before. 
You  've  got  us  dead  wrong,  officer.  We  were 
simply  going  out  to  the  University,  where  we 
came  from." 

"Maybe  you  was  and  maybe  you  wasn't," 
was  the  stern  rejoinder.  "You  collegers  think 
you  can  put  us  on  the  blink  like  a  lot  of  village 
constables,  but  you  can't.  We  haint  so  green." 

"Of  course,"  said  Walters,  "we  do  not  in- 
tend to  remain  here.  What  are  the  little  pre- 
liminaries?"  Pop   reached  for  his   purse,   as 

207 


MAKOON  TALES 


if  prepared  to  pacify  the  law  with  a  handsome 
tip. 

"Two  hundred  apiece,  bail.  Who  do  yon 
want  notified?"  said  the  lockup-keeper. 

"Notify  the  mayor — notify  the  whole  town/ 
Walters  flared.  "We  'd  like  to  get  it  in  th< 
paper — on  the  front  page." 

"Shut  up.    We  've  got  to  be  bailed  out,  you 
fool,"  said  Larned.     To  the    patient    official 
"Call  up  Hyde  Park  double-naught  and  ask 
Taylor  to  come  here.  T-a-y-1-o-r — Taylor.  Yes 
he  owns  real  estate  in  town.    Ask  him  to  brin 
his  large  car  and  tell  him  to  stay  mum  about  it. 

"Do  you  think  Al  will  keep  it  dark?"  aske 
Landon. 

"If  he  does  not,"  said  Ted,  feelingly,  "I  '11 
kill  him  alive.  See  any  antique  chairs  around 
here?" 

The  lockup-keeper  had  other  arrangements  in 
mind.  He  silently  beckoned  the  Pillars  toward 
the  disorderly  row.  Pop's  previous  flow  of  per- 
sonalities may  have  had  something  to  do  with 
the  gloomy  person's  choice  of  his  new  quart-' 
ers.  He  was  pushed  into  an  ill-smelling  cell 
that  was  already  more  than  two-thirds  filled. 
He  stood  close  up  against  the  iron  door,  while 

208 


BIG  BOYS  AND  LITTLE  BOYS 

Norry  and  Ted  and  Bngs  were  ushered  into  the 
next  cell,  which  they  were  permitted  to  occupy 
alone. 

" Cheer  up,  kid,"  said  a  cheerful  and  chinless 
young  man,  who  seemed  to  be  a  sort  of  bell-hop. 
"You  haint  an  American  citizen  till  you  Ve 
been  pinched  onct." 

The  incarcerating  of  the  clean,  flanneled 
youths  was  greeted  by  the  other  prisoners  with 
jibes  and  jeers.  Pop's  cell  was  most  unpleas- 
ant. He  was  sure  it  was  insanitary,  if  not  act- 
ually pestilential.  His  fellow-guests  shoved  and 
elbowed  him  and  made  remarks  about  his 
clothes.  An  odorous  vagrant  clung  to  his 
arm,  earnestly  desiring  a  "chaw"  and  a  quar- 
ter. When  these  articles  were  not  supplied 
him,  he  directed  his  importunities  to  the  next 
apartment. 

' '  Have  n  't  got  any.    I  don 't  chaw, ' '  said  Ted. 

"What  are  you  in  fer,  pard?"  queried  the 
vagrant. 

Walters  answered  for  Larned.  "He  *s  just 
here  to  influence  the  prisoners,"  he  said,  smil- 
ing easily  at  Ted.  "He  's  being  an  example. 
He  is  full  of  kind  deeds  and  has  character 
and  is  very  superior.    He  's  also  a  professional 

209 


AKOON   TALES 

orator,  getting  material  for  a  speech  for  tomor 
row  night — to-night,  I  mean.  Wants  to  go  down 
in  history  as  one  of  the  late  martyrs." 

"That  's  an  excruciating  joke,  Pop,"  said 
Larned.    "It  's  really  side-splitting." 

"Of  course,  I  admit  that  it  is  not  funny,"  re- 
turned Pop ;  "it  is  tragic.  By  the  way,  Ted,  I 
don't  believe  many  of  the  freshmen  ever  have 
been  pinched.  You  can  warn  them  about  it. 
Now,  looking  at  you  through  the  bars,  I  should 
say " 

i '  Cut  the  dude  talk, ' '  snarled  a  peevish  pris- 
oner. 

The  entrance  of  more  ' '  arrests ' '  and  the  con- 
sequent shifts  and  crowding  made  further  com- 
munication between  the  two  cells  impossible. 
AValters  fell  back  upon  the  conversational  gifts 
of  the  vagrant,  who  was  whining  for  tobacco, 
and  some  others,  whose  proficiency  in  the 
vernacular  was  at  once  astonishing  and  bewil- 
dering. But  the  smell  of  the  whisky  and  stale 
things  was  very  offensive,  and  Pop's  head 
ached.  He  no  longer  felt  flippant.  It  was  much 
the  same  in  the  adjoining  cell.  It  seemed  hours 
before  relief  came  in  the  person  of  the  lockup- 
man,  who  called  out  the  names  of  the  Pillars 

210 


BIG  BOYS  AND  LITTLE  BOYS 

and  released  them  through  stingy  openings  of 
the  iron  gates. 

Al  Taylor  was  waiting  at  a  barred  door  at 
the  foot  of  a  winding  flight  of  steps.  He  was 
quite  gay.  He  took  his  elder  brothers  upstairs 
and  introduced  them  to  the  desk-sergeant. 
Something  was  said  about  "nine  o'clock  sure." 

"  I  '11  see  that  they  get  here, ' '  Al  promised. ' '  I 
hold  myself  responsible  for  their  actions.' ' 

"Al,  if  you  ever  tell  this,  I  '11  strangle  you," 
said  Larned,  as  they  left  the  desk. 

"Oh,  no,  you  won't,"  answered  Al.  "For  if 
you  did,  there  wouldn't  be  any  one  to  bail  you 
out.  Come  on." 

The  Pillars  drew  long  breaths  of  morning  air 
as  they  passed  out  of  the  station  door,  and  then 
they  drew  several  shorter  ones,  because  they 
were  a  little  dazed.  For  they  saw  three  large 
motors  lined  up  before  them.  And  in  the  mo- 
tors were  about  twenty  boys  in  various  stages 
of  noisy  delight.  The  faces  of  Mansfield  Gar- 
rett Tompkins  and  Phil  Jennings  and  Petey 
Strong  and  Bed  Wallace  were  bright  in  the 
light  of  the  street  lamp.  Little  Jimmy  Grant 
was  leaning  over  the  side  of  one  of  the  cars,  too 
tired  to  join  in  the  racket. 

211 


MAROON  TALES 

"This  is  a  surprise  for  you,"  announced  Al, 
waving  an  arm  toward  the  Rho  chapter. 

The  seniors  said  very  little. 

"It  must  have  been  quite  a  job  to  get  all 
those  children  down  here,"  Walters  remarked. 

' 1  Yes,  you  bet  it  was, ' '  agreed  Al.  i '  Some  of 
'em  did  n't  want  to  come,  but  I  thought  it  would 
be  a  good  lesson.  Now  they  know  where  we 
keep  our  criminal  classes.    Pile  in." 

The  Four  Pillars  of  the  Temple  finally  were 
seated  after  they  had  succeeded  in  quieting 
the  Rhos,  who  fought  for  the  honor  of  riding 
with  "jail-birds." 

Lamed  sat  in  the  soft  back  seat  of  Taylor's 
car  with  Jimmy  Grant  on  his  lap. 

"Home,  James,"  he  ordered,  as  Al  turned 
on  the  speed. 

"When  's  the  trial  coming  off?"  yelled  Red 
Wallace. 

"Nine  o'clock,"  said  Taylor. 

Larned  grunted. 

"Nine  o'clock,"  murmured  Jimmy  Grant, 
who  had  been  temporarily  roused  from  his  stu- 
por. "Gee,  that  's  awful  early.  Will  you  have 
to  be  a  witness  or  something,  Ted?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so." 

212 


BIG  BOYS  AND  LITTLE  BOYS 

"Well,  you  '11  just  have  time  to  get  back  to 
the  party,"  the  freshman  faltered  drowsily. 
1 1  You  know,  you  are  to  make  a  speech. ' ' 

"Yes,  I  know — as  an  alumnus — but  never 
mind  about  that,  Jimmy.  I  '11  make  it  very 
short." 

"Don't  you  worry  about  this — this  scrape, 
Ted,"  sighed  Jimmy.  "The  fellows  will  for- 
get it.    We  all — niake — mistakes — and " 

The  freshman's  head  drooped  lower,  for  he 
was  very  weary  indeed.  He  had  been  ruthlessly 
tumbled  out  of  bed,  and  somebody  had  jerked 
him  into  his  clothes  and  buttoned  him  up  all 
crosswise  and  dragged  him  to  the  automobile. 
He  had  slept  most  of  the  way  down  town  and  his 
eyes  felt  blinky  and  he  was  not  enjoying  him- 
self at  all.  Larned  smiled  down  at  the  little 
fellow  as  the  car  whirred  into  an  open,  glitter- 
ing stretch  of  boulevard.  Then  he  lifted  Jim- 
my's aching  body  and  settled  it  more  comforta- 
bly in  his  lap  and  hugged  the  tired  head  against 
his  big  shoulder. 

"Go  to  sleep,  youngster,"  he  said.  "Go  on 
back  to  sleep." 


213 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTOKATE 

O  TEPHEN  ANSLEY  came  down  the  steps 
^  of  the  Psychological  Laboratory  in  a  com- 
fortable state  of  mind.  He  gave  himself 
over,  not  without  a  mild  consciousness  of 
self-indulgence,  to  the  enjoyment  of  a  little 
swarm  of  pleasurable  stimuli  so  marked  and 
characteristic  that  they  might  just  have 
escaped  from  the  glass  case  where  absurdly 
young  Psych.  1  students  may  imagine  they 
are  kept  with  the  funny  papier-mache  cer- 
ebrum and  the  Brobdingnagian  eye  and  ear 
models.  Such  nonsense  would  not  have  oc- 
curred to  Stephen,  who  was  twenty-nine  and  al- 
most a  Ph.D. — a  Ph.D.  with  a  summa,  perhaps. 
For  he  had  done  a  fine  piece  of  work.  He  had 
finished  a  set  of  his  research  experiments  a 
few  minutes  before,  and  his  doctor's  thesis 
would  appear  in  the  great  scientific  journal  that 
tells  about  that  kind  of  extraordinary  and  un- 
approachable achievements.  It  was  enough  to 
make  anybody  draw  full,  deep  breaths  and  feel 
strong;  anybody,  of  course,  who  goes  in 
for  those  things. 

215 


MAEOON  TALES 


He  did  not  stop  to  leave  his  green  book-bag 
at  his  room  in  Hitchcock  across  the  street, 
where  the  early  lights  and  hurrying  figures 
proclaimed  the  hasty  dinner  preparations  of  the 
dormitory  men;  he  was  going  to  dine  at  his 
fraternity  house  instead  of  at  the  Commons. 
He  wanted  to  see  the  Eho  freshman  pledges 
and  shake  hands  with  the  whole  crowd.  It  al- 
ways cheered  him  up.  The  pledges  were  young 
and  happy  and  attractive — like  Helen  Barry, 
for  instance,  Stephen  reflected. 

Stephen  had  particularly  noticed  Miss  Barry 
that  morning,  when  he  had  supplied  for  Pro- 
fessor White  in  Psychology  1.  He  flushed  a  little 
as  he  remembered  that  he  had  glanced  at  her 
over  his  glasses  rather  more  than  was  becom- 
ing in  an  instructor.  He  had  at  least  a  partial 
excuse,  however,  as  he  had  read  and  ad- 
mired her  paper  on  " Association  Centers' '  the 
night  before.  He  had  been  surprised  at  the  real 
merit — almost  brilliance — of  the  exercise.  She 
was  pretty,  too;  much  prettier  than  the  other 
girls  in  Psych.  1.  He  hoped  he  would  know  her 
better.  He  meant  to  meet  all  the  students  and 
talk  over  the  work — especially  association 
centers.     Stephen  hardly   ever   allowed   him- 


216 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTOEATE 

self  to  think  right  out  like  that  about  young 
women.  He  hadn't  time.  Besides,  as  Eed 
Wallace  put  it,  he  suffered  from  an  acute  case 
of  the  intellectual  point  of  view.  Ked  had  no 
respect  for  learning. 

The  pleasurable  stimuli  did  their  work  well. 
By  the  time  Stephen  reached  the  Midway, 
he  was  humming  a  tune  from  a  worn- 
out  comic  opera,  not  in  the  least  disturbed  either 
by  the  antiquity  or  the  unethical  implication  of 
the  verse,  boasting  more  or  less  musically  that 
of  him  't  was  said  that  he  painted  things  red. 
Stephen  had  never  accomplished  more  than  a 
faint  pink  in  his  life.  When  he  turned  in  at  the 
house,  he  felt  like  an  under-classman  again.  He 
wrenched  his  bad  knee  when  he  foolishly  tried 
to  take  the  steps  four  at  a  jump,  and  an  over- 
healthy  freshman,  coming  at  a  bound  from  be- 
hind, banged  into  him  and  pushed  him  through 
the  half-open  door.  A  great  clatter  of  glass  and 
silver  greeted  him  inside.  The  Khos  were  hav- 
ing their  dinner. 

And  dinner  at  the  Eho  house  that  evening 
was  no  ordinary  function.  Everybody  was 
expected  and  everybody  came,  down  to  the  last 
of  the  eight  freshmen,  because  it  was  the  night 

217 


MAKOON  TALES 


before  the  annual  initiation — even  Mansfield 
Garrett  Tompkins,  still  retaining  his  baptismal 
title  through  the  failure  of  the  sophomores  to 
find  a  nickname  that  would  adequately  describe 
the  case.  Bugs  Landon,  the  senior  at  the  head 
of  the  upper-class  table,  arose  and  carried  his 
soup  to  a  lower  place  as  the  grad.  shook  hands 
with  those  nearest.  At  Stephen's  right  sat 
Professor  Ford  of  the  Sociology  department, 
who  had  declined  the  position  of  honor.  Pro 
fessor  Ford  was  a  Kho,  and  faculty  ad 
viser  to  the  Chicago  chapter,  in  which  capacity 
he  called  regularly  once  a  year;  he  was  an  ex- 
pert in  social  economy. 

1  '  Now,  what  do  you  think  of  this  race  conflic 
talk,  Professor  Ford?"  Al  Taylor  was  ask 
ing,  as  Bugs  juggled  his  soup  toward  a  vacan 
seat.  Al  prided  himself  on  his  conversationa 
skill. 

"Do  you  mean  the  track  meet  with  Wiscons 
next  month,  or  the  conf erence  1 ' '  said  Professo 
Ford.  "I  should  say  that  both  will  b 
closely  contested,  though  I  understand  we  nee 
distance  men."  Bugs  Landon,  in  the  proces 
of  seating  himself,  further  ruffled  the  feeling 
of  Al  by  festooning  a  dripping  string  of  vermi 


218 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTOEATE 

celli  over  his  left  ear.  Although  Al  was  a 
junior,  he  had  not  heard  that  Professor  Ford, 
who  knew  all  about  the  methods  of  ameliorating 
conditions  in  crowded  communities,  had  once 
worn  a  big  blue  sweater  and  a  big  white  letter. 
But  that  was  long  before  Al  cared  about  sweat- 
ers and  letters. 

Eed  Wallace,  who  had  been  unusually  quiet, 
came  to  the  rescue. 

"How  are  the  little  pink-noses,  Stephen f." 
he  inquired. 

Eed  possessed  only  a  languid  interest  in  the 
white  rats  of  the  Psychological  Laboratory,  but 
he  always  greeted  Stephen  with  apparent  solic- 
itude for  their  welfare.  When  Stephen  said, 
"Doing  finely,"  Eed  would  gravely  observe 
that  they  must  be  getting  quite  fat  by  this  time, 
mustn't  they.  The  rest  of  the  Ehos  never 
worried  about  the  rats,  though  Bugs  Landon 
had  once  referred  to  them  as  "the  white  horses 
of  Ansleysholm,, — a  subtlety  which  had  been 
lost  on  Bed,  who  thought  conundrums  in  bad 
taste,  anyway. 

"The  first  set  of  trials  in  the  labyrinth  are 
completed,"  said  Stephen,  solemnly.  "I  am 
encouraged  to  believe  that  I  have  proved  my 

219 


MAEOON  TALES 


theory  of  orientation  in  the  rodent/ •  H 
talked  that  way  because  he  was  obliged  to. 
Polysyllabic  profundity  was  his  natural  means 
of  expression. 

"Fine  business,"  cried  Squib  Morris. 

Squib  wished  to  hear  more  about  that 
orientation;  he  was  deeply  interested  in  the 
Orient.  He  had  an  imitation  Turkish  rug  in 
his  room  and  a  cozy  corner  with  bamboo  cur 
tains  and  a  red  electric  light.  He  smoked 
Amenhotep  cigarettes  and  was  addicted  to  such 
songs  as  "My  Madagascar  Beaut/ '  "My 
Spanish  Lulu,"  and  "My  Africano  Kiddo." 
And  wasn't  he  going  to  take  Spanish  and  Ger- 
man both  next  year?  So  wouldn't  Stephe 
please  spout  the  whole  story?  Stephen  would 
he  did. 

Stephen's  remarks  doubtless  were  informa 
tive — they  were  tiresome  enough.  He  apparent 
ly  exhausted  the  possibilities  of  the  white  ra 
several  times,  only  to  go  back  and  drag  ou 
more  secrets  about  the  creatures.  You  woul 
have  thought  the  little  beasts  were  literall 
stuffed  with  facts  instead  of  proper  insides 
He  surcharged  the  dining  room  with  th 
psychological-neurological-physiological  vocab- 


220 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

ulaiy.  Most  of  the  Rhos  felt  sleepy.  Pro- 
fessor Ford  said,  "I  see,  Ansley,"  once  or  twice, 
and  Squib  was  so  disappointed  at  the  entire 
lack  of  oriental  coloring  that  he  made  no 
comment  whatever,  which  was  strange.  The 
freshmen,  beyond  words  for  once,  continued 
their  automatic  eating.  When  Mansfield  Gar- 
rett Tompkins  pretended  to  stuff  his  mouth 
with  his  napkin,  the  rest  of  the  freshmen  did 
likewise.  They  thought  Stephen  might  be  jok- 
ing after  all,  in  which  case  they  should  be  on 
the  safe  side. 

"So  it  seems  quite  clear  that  in  this  experi- 
ment the  olfactory  sensations  played  no  part 
in  the  relation  of  the  rats  to  the  labyrinth.  One 
of  the  rats  solved  the  maze  in  record  time," 
Stephen  finished. 

"New  sprinter.  Great!"  sniggered  Mans- 
field Garrett,  who,  having  failed  dismally  in 
his  attempts  to  fashion  the  Leaning  Tower  of 
Pisa  in  crackers,  found  it  absolutely  im- 
perative to  say  or  do  something  at  once.  The 
freshman  was  squelched  with  a  glance  from 
Landon.  Mansfield  Garrett  liked  Bugs;  so  he 
looked  silly  and  shuffled  his  feet  on  the  floor  and 
looked  down  at  his  dessert  until  he  hit  upon 

221 


MAKOON   TALES 

the  brilliant  plan  of  trying  the  Leaning  Tower 
again. 

1 i  You  said  that  similar  experiments  had  been 
made  with  other  animals  in  your  department, 
did  you  not,  Ansley?"  Professor  Ford  asked. 

"Yes,  a  comparative  study  was  undertaken 
at  the  outset.  It  was  found  that  the  guinea 
pig,  a  rodent  almost  completely  medullated  at 
birth,  in  distinction  to  the  absence  of  medul- 
lated fibers  in  the  peripheral  and  central  nerv- 
ous systems  of  the  rat,  differs  radically  from 
the  rat  in  its  psychic  life.  Miss  Hill  carried 
out  the  guinea  pig  tests — Miss  Charlotte  Hill. 
Her  thesis  will  be  a  most  interesting  and  val- 
uable document.,, 

That  woke  up  Petey  Strong,  who  had  been  a 
Daily  Maroon  reporter  for  a  month,  and  knew 
a  story.  When  fellow-freshmen  asked  Petey 
what  he  intended  to  make  of  himself,  he 
would  say:  "Oh,  a  journalist,  I  guess.  I  'm  on 
The  Maroon  now." 

"Why  didn't  you  come  through  with  that 
before,  Stephen  V9  he  wailed  from  the  fresh- 
man table.  "Just  bring  me  her  picture  next 
time  you  get  around,  with  the  story  of  your  life 

222 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

attached,  and  we  '11  have  a  grand,  glorious  ro- 
mance out  of  it  on  the  front  page." 

Several  of  the  Rhos  were  amused  at  this. 
Stephen  and  a  girl!  Stephen  explained  that 
he  understood  Miss  Hill  was  engaged  to  a 
young  Political  Economy  professor  at  another 
university — a  Professor  Dace,  to  be  exact. 
Petey  smiled  resignedly.  He  had  thought  up 
such  a  good  lead,  in  which  "cloistered  halls 
and  ivied  walls' '  should  lend  a  sort  of  fancy 
touch  to  the  story.  He  was  still  pitying  him- 
self when  Landon  pushed  back  his  chair  by  way 
of  a  rising  signal. 

Professor  Ford  never  stood  on  ceremony. 
He  shook  hands  with  everybody  and  left  imme- 
liately  for  the  West  Side,  where  he  was  going 
to  lecture  on  model  tenements  and  social  un- 
rest before  some  people  who  lived  in  the  other 
kind  and  were  wickedly  contented.  Stephen 
had  come  to  see  the  freshmen,  and  he  talked  to 
them  as  long  as  they  would  stand  still,  which 
was  about  a  minute  apiece.  Then  they  scurried 
upstairs  or  out  of  doors  in  search  of  books  or 
space  to  stretch  their  growing  legs  in,  accord- 
ing to  their  various  ideas  of  scholastic  ex- 
pediency.   Groups  of  fellows  sauntered  to  the 

223 


; 


MAEOON   TALES 

window-seats  and  curtained  corners,  busy 
initiation  plans   and   the   campus   happening 
of  the  day.     Bugs  Landon  and  Red  Wallace 
smoked  and  sang  softly  before  the  grate  fir 
to  Squib's  thrumming  piano  accompaniment 

Stephen,  who  never  smoked,  lounged  in  a: 
easy  chair  and  closed  his  eyes,  while  Squib 
switched  from  choppy  chords  to  his  favorite 
South  Sea  intermezzo  and  then  to  a  long-suffer- 
ing ballad  that  was  well  suited  to  a  quiet 
mood.  Stephen  sat  very  still,  listening.  He 
was  thinking — of  his  thesis  and  of  Psych 
Yes,  he  must  meet  the  members  of  Professo 
White's  class  and  talk  over  the  work 
would  help  him  in  grading  the  papers.  He 
must  see  Miss  Barry  about  that  point  in  he 
discussion  of  association  centers. 

The  long-suffering  ballad  grew  softer.  I 
was  very  slow  and  soothing,  and  Stephen  re- 
laxed* He  was  in  class  again,  and  now  Pro- 
fessor White  was  asking  him  the  name  of  that 
pretty,  black-eyed  girl  in  the  third  row.    .    .    . 

The  music  stopped  with  a  flourish  and  a 
bang.  Stephen's  head  thumped  vigorously  on 
the  back  of  his  chair. 

''That  is  Helen  Barry,"  he  exclaimed,  in 

224 


Le 

■ 

e 

: 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

tones  that  reached  the  farthest  window-seat, 
loud  and  startling. 

The  astonished  Rhos  tangled  themselves  up 
in  their  haste  to  reach  the  bewildered  and 
blinking  Ansley. 

"What  in  Heaven's  name  have  we  here?" 
demanded  Al  Taylor.  "Helen  Barry!  Great! 
Wait  a  minute,  Stephen ! ' ' 

But  Stephen  had  gone.  Al  collapsed  on  the 
floor,  uttering  a  succession  of  unintelligible 
sounds. 

"How  about  it,  Red?  Did  you  hear  that?" 
asked  Bugs  Landon.  "You  are  going  to  take 
her  to  the  Prom.,  aren't  you?  Do  you  think 
she  will  pass  Psych.  1?" 

"Got  any  tobacco  about  you?"  was  Red's 
only  comment. 

Red  was  not  at  all  disturbed.  But  he 
dreamed  that  night  of  Stephen  Ansley  and 
Charlotte  Hill  and  Helen  Barry,  standing  in 
a  gigantic  bird  cage  under  a  wedding  bell  of 
squirming  milk-white  rats,  while  fuzzy  green 
guinea  pigs  gibbered  and  swung  madly  on 
miniature  trapezes. 


225 


MAROON   TALES 


II 


Shrill,  vociferous  squeals  issued  from  a  base- 
ment room  in  Anatomy.  Charlotte  Hill's 
guinea  pigs  desired  their  luncheon.  Stephen 
Ansley  tapped  on  the  door.  As  it  swung  open 
from  within,  the  urgent  pipings  sank  to  a  doubt- 
ful and  confused  bur — r,  followed  by  a  gen- 
eral silence.  Stephen  and  Miss  Hill  nodded 
approvingly,  glancing  around  at  the  timid  little 
creatures  now  huddled  together  close  against 
the  wire  mesh,  in  the  corners  of  the  three  large 
cages. 

Miss  Hill  tiptoed  across  to  her  desk. 
As  the  laboratory  routine  proceeded  without 
further  interruptions,  the  hungry  guinea  pigs 
remembered  their  luncheon  and  began  to  gnaw 
the  sides  of  their  prisons,  some  of  them  chuck- 
ling confidently.  When  Charlotte  approached 
with  a  pan  of  freshly  cut  and  fragrant  carrots, 
the  frenzied  squeals  began  again  and  the 
thick-bodied,  black-and-grayish  yellow  animals 
slouched  and  dragged  themselves  to  the  front 
of  the  cages,  attempting  to  stick  their  blunt, 
rabbit-like  noses  through  the  wires.    The  car- 

226 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

rot-lady  was  generous  to  all  but  the  ones 
that  were  to  undergo  experiment  5&. 

Stephen  carefully  watched  the  preparations 
for  the  experiment,  exclaiming  delightedly 
when  he  noticed  new  and  ingenious  arrange- 
ments of  the  test  apparatus.  Had  he  not  been 
such  a  scientific  young  man,  he  might  have 
spent  his  enthusiasm  on  Charlotte  herself.  Al 
Taylor,  now,  or  Bugs  Landon,  would  not  have 
become  excited  over  a  lot  of  laboratory  fix- 
ings ;  they  would  have  tumbled  about  the  room 
breaking  glassware  in  their  efforts  to  help 
out  and  get  acquainted. 

For  no  one  would  have  said  of  Miss  Hill  that 
she  was  probably  good  to  her  parents,  or 
awfully  kind-hearted.  She  was  not  that  type 
of  graduate  student,  even  if  she  was  writing  a 
monograph  about  the  psychic  life  of  the  guinea 
pig.  You  would  not  have  believed  that 
she  knew  whole  books  of  queer  scientific  things 
and  could  say  them  backwards  if  she  chose. 
Her  hair  was  sort  of  blond  and  fluffy  and  her 
eyes  were  sort  of  blue  and  her  cheeks  were  sort 
of  pink  and  plump.  And  she  was  sort  of  medi- 
um-sized. 

Stephen  was  proud  of  Charlotte.     He  con- 

227 


MAEOON  TALES 

sidered  her  work  remarkably  effective.    So 
looked  straight  past  her  at  the  lovely  structur 
of  the  wire  maze ;  straight  past  the  pink  of  he 
cheeks  and  the  blue  of  her  eyes.    In  some  ways 
he  was  rather  slow. 

Charlotte — well,  Charlotte  noticed,  anc 
told  herself  that  she  liked  Stephen's  unsenti 
mental  approbation  and  what  she  called  th 
"sexless  atmosphere"  of  the  scientific  depart- 
ment. Very  often  she  would  smile  quietly 
over  Stephen's  little  fits  of  abstraction  and  his 
peculiarities.  Once,  when  she  wrote  to  her 
mother  she  spoke  of  him  as  "a  fine  young  fel- 
low and  not  a  bit  handsome. ' '  Which  was  per 
fectly  true.  He  was  not,  as  the  Rhos  admitted 
a  prize  beauty,  but  that  didn't  matter  in  th( 
least.  Stephen's  face,  somehow,  had  never 
quite  lived  up  to  his  finely  proportionec 
head.  His  nose  was  too  large,  and  his  eye 
squinted.  But,  the  Rhos  asked,  what  of  that? 
He  could  stand  comfortably  under  the  out- 
stretched arm  of  six-foot  Bugs  Landon;  bul 
that  was  because  he  never  thought  to  straighte 
up  to  his  full  height. 

Stephen  came  to  attention  when  informed 
that  the  test  was  about  to  begin.    Both  he  and 

228 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

Miss  Hill  were  prepared  to  observe  minutely 
every  phase  of  the  experiment,  designed  to 
check  a  result  obtained  previously.  Charlotte 
lifted  a  mother  guinea  pig  and  a  three-days-old 
"piggy"  from  cage  A  and  transferred  them  to 
the  large  experiment-box  by  the  window.  Then 
the  work  began.  Stephen  and  Charlotte  noted 
each  movement  of  the  guinea  pigs,  correcting 
and  adding  figures  to  a  table  of  psychological 
hieroglyphics.    At  last  they  finished. 

"You  see,  I  was  right,' '  said  Charlotte,  as 
she  shook  her  loose  notes  before  the  gorging 
inhabitants  of  cage  A. 

Then  the  scientists  sat  down  and  talked. 
Much  of  what  they  said  was  unpronounceable. 
For  Stephen  had  done  with  the  rats,  and  Char- 
lotte had  done  with  the  guinea  pigs,  what  cer- 
tain rather  famous  scientific  persons  had 
done  with  certain  other  animals,  only  they  had 
gone  a  little  farther  than  the  others.  They  shook 
hands  on  it,  and  Charlotte  had  the  tiniest  bit  of 
a  proud  glow  in  her  eyes. 

"My  heartiest  congratulations  for  the  best 
work  ever  done  here  by  a  woman,  Miss  Hill," 
said  Stephen. 

That  sounded  too  stiff  and  formal,  and  both 

229 


upon 


MAKOON   TALES 

felt  relieved  when  their  attention  was 
denly  directed  to  the  window.  Ked  Wallace 
was  trying  to  make  himself  heard  through  th( 
basement  grating: 

' '  May— I— come— in  ? ' ' 

Stephen  nodded  and  Red  blustered  in  upo 
Stephen's  description  of  a  very  absorbing  ex- 
periment a  moment  later,  frightening  the 
guinea  pigs  into  a  state  of  quivering  hysteria 
with  his  loud  knock. 

"You  people  go  right  on  talking,"  he  smiled 
graciously  when  he  had  been  introduced  to  Miss 
Hill.    "I  'm  in  no  hurry. ' ' 

"Well,  rat  6,  as  I  said,  was  then  tried  with 
the  food-box,"  continued  Stephen.  "In  orde 
to  open  the  door,  it  was  obliged  to  walk  to  th 
end  of  the  inclined  plane  which  I  had  place 
back  of  the  box.  It  worked  the  combinatio 
accidentally  the  first  time,  the  latch  bein 
drawn  from  its  socket  as  soon  as  the  weigh 
counterbalanced  the  friction  of  the  string  anc 
latch,  the  door  falling  by  means  of  a  spring 
Having  solved  the  mystery  in  this  way  and  ob 
tained  access  to  the  food,  it  next  walked  imme- 
diately to  the  door  and M 

' '  Oh,  I  know  a  better  one  than  that, ' '  bragge( 

230 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTOEATE 

Red.  "I  once  possessed  a  hoop-snake,  of 
which  I  was  very  fond.  It  was  a  remarkable 
pet.  Having  need  one  day  of  a  barrel  of  water 
and  finding  that  our  only  barrel  was  lacking 
a  hoop,  my  sagacious  snake  volunteered  to 
act " 

Red  was  rudely  silenced  by  a  strong  grip  on 
his  collar. 

"Red,  you  needn't  hurry  away,"  laughed 
Stephen.    "But  what  do  you  want?" 

"Want  a  dance  for  the  Senior  Prom.  Oh, 
yes,  you  Ve  got  to  go.  Closer  relations  with 
the  student  body.  As  a  special  concession, 
you  can  have  two  dances — fourth  and  twelfth. 
I  'm  taking  Helen  Barry." 

"Fourth  and  twelfth — Helen  Barry,"  re- 
peated Stephen.    "All  right." 

"Going  to  the  Prom.,  Miss  Hill?"  inquired 
Red,  on  the  principle  that  one  should  strive  to 
keep  talking. 

"No,  I  'm  getting  too  old  for  parties,  Mr.  Wal- 
lace, ' '  the  very  scientific  young  woman  replied. 
And  she  smiled  her  very  dimpliest  and  sweet- 
est smile. 

Stephen  did  not  hear  the  question  nor  the 
answer,  nor  see  the  smile.  He  was  pulling  on  his 

231 


MAEOON  TALES 


sea 


overcoat  and  wondering  why  he  had  misse 
the  last  five  Washington  Promenades.    He  was 
glad  Eed  had  reminded  him.    He  was  still  more 
pleased  when  he  and  Eed  met  Helen  Barry  as 
they  strolled  across  the  campus. 

' 'I  have  two  dances  with  you  for  the  Wash- 
ington Prom.,,,  he  stammered,  when  Eed  had 
artlessly  inquired  whether  Miss  Barry  knew 
Mr.  Ansley. 

"Why,  Professor  Ansley,  that  's  perfectly 
lovely. ' ' 

Stephen  saw  and  heard  this  time.  He  won- 
dered if  Eed  would  not  have  liked  to 
receive  that  sign  of  favor.  Eed  did  not 
seem  to  be  disturbed,  however,  when  he  left 
Stephen  and  started  toward  Foster  with  Miss 
Barry.  A  wild  idea  of  kidnaping  Eed  and 
carrying  him  into  the  mountain  fastnesses  en- 
tered Stephen's  mind;  then  he  could  take  Miss 
Barry  to  the  Prom,  himself.  The  inspiration 
fled  as  quickly  as  it  came;  they  always 
did.  In  the  first  place,  there  were  no  moun- 
tain fastnesses.  He  turned  back  toward  the 
Commons. 

One  electric  bulb  shed  a  soft  light  in  Hitch- 

232 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

cock  12.  Stephen  was  drowsily  reading  a  defini- 
tion in  the  Psychological  and  Philosophical  Dic- 
tionary:  "  '  (AS.  lufian,  to  love) :  Ger.  liebe;  Fr. 
amour ;  Ital.  amore. — Dispositional  interest  of 
an  exclusive  kind — manifests  itself  in  following 
emotional  states — pleasure  in  the  presence  of 
the  object — pain  occasioned  by  his  absence — ' 
why  not  her  absence! — 'two  kinds — fraternal, 
romantic *■ — here  it  is,  romantic — 'in  romantic 
love  the  exclusiveness  of  the  interest  is  much 
stronger — conative  ingredient  intrudes  itself 
into  consciousness — extreme  restlessness  is 
felt  —  mental  distraction  —  mental  —  distrac- 
tion  '  " 

The  feeble  rays  from  the  electric  bulb  were 
foolishly  trying  to  shine  through  gleams  of 
dusty  sunlight  when  John,  the  janitor,  opened 
the  door  in  the  morning. 


233 


MAROON   TALES 


III 


Bartlett  Gymnasium  was  gorgeous  in  it: 
Prom,  clothes.  The  tall,  gray  walls,  bright  anc 
smooth  in  the  moonlight  streaming  ove] 
Mitchell  Tower,  looked  familiar  enough  as  yoi 
drove  up  to  the  canopied  entrance;  only,  yoi 
wondered  if  each  one  of  those  great,  clear 
stones  hadn't  been  scrubbed  for  the  occasion, 
The  shining  lights  at  each  side  of  the  door- 
way prepared  you  for  something  very  unusua 
inside;  and  you  were  not  disappointed.  Yo 
could  not  expect  the  Washington  Promenad 
to  have  the  prosaic  setting  of  a  track  meet  or  a 
basket-ball  game. 

Helen  Barry  expressed  her  delight  as 
she  bounced  through  the  big  middle  door 
into  the  gymnasium.  The  door  was  open, 
of  course ;  Red  Wallace  was  holding  it  back  as 
far  as  the  heavy  hinges  would  permit.  Miss 
Barry  would  have  managed  in  some  way,  how 
ever,  had  it  been  shut  and  barred.  She  always 
bounced  through  things,  emerging  inevitably 
and  triumphantly  at  the  point  desired. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it,  Mr.  Wallace? 

234 


M 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

she  demanded,  as  she  indicated  the  gay  maroon 
trappings  of  the  stairway,  the  maroon  carpet 
on  the  tiled  floor  of  the  hall  and  the  maroon 
frills  on  the  many  lights,  and  nodded  to  sev- 
eral young  men,  all  in  a  baffling  and  mar- 
velously  complicated  gesture.  Then  she 
bounced  toward  the  cloak-room.  Red  spent 
the  next  ten  minutes  in  pulling  on  his  new 
white  gloves  and  meditating  upon  Miss  Barry's 
remarkable  vivacity  until  the  subject  of  his 
thoughts,  a  vision  in  countless  white  ruffles, 
suddenly  appeared  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 
ready  for  the  ascent  to  the  Prom,  floor. 

"Upstairs  it  's  something  wonderful/ '  she 
fluttered,  "and  you  must  like  it  whether  you 
do  or  not.  Some  of  the  seniors  made  me  help 
decorate.    Hello,  Margery!" 

Red  had  not  evolved  a  reply  when  he  found 
himself  at  the  top  of  the  staircase,  compelled 
to  talk  to  Mrs.  Sand.  He  told  Mrs.  Sand 
that  the  decorations  were  "  great/ '  This  idea, 
with  variations  of  "bully"  and  "immense," 
furnished  him  with  conversational  material  for 
the  next  three  hours.  After  that  he  spoke  of 
the  "great"  and  "bully"  and  "immense"  sup- 
per arrangements. 

235 


MAROON  TALES 

The  baseball  cages  of  Bartlett  had  bee 
drawn  up  to  form  a  great  canopy  over  the 
Prom,  floor.  An  occasional  carnation,  showing 
through  the  green  of  ferns  and  vines  inter- 
woven in  the  netting,  strove  bravely  to  create 
an  illusion  of  floral  abundance.  The  railing  of 
the  hanging  running-track  was  festooned  with 
maroon  and  white  bunting,  an  overgrown 
rosette  of  uncertain  proportions  at  each  sup- 
porting rod.  The  palms  at  each  end  of  the 
pavilioned  space,  the  maroon  banners  on  the 
parallel  bars,  the  hundreds  of  little  pennants 
in  corners  and  windows,  and  the  brilliant  gilt 
and  satin  trophies  of  athletic  victories, — all 
were  doing  faithful  duty.  Overhead,  a  huge  let- 
ter of  fire  flashed  and  burned — the  "C." 

Stephen  Ansley,  seated  beside  Charlotte 
Hill  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  was  talking  of 
the  glories  of  the  nineties  when  Red  and  Helen 
Barry  came  up. 

Stephen  was  singing  very  softly  and  quite 
off  the  key: 

"Cobb   Hall  was  then  the  only  place 

Where  we  could  daily  flunk, 

And  in  the  dear  old  Drexel  'Dorm,' 

Was  the  only  place  to  bunk." 

"I  'm  sure  you  never  flunked  in  your  life 

236 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

Professor  Ansley,"  laughed  Miss  Barry. 
"Don't  you  think  the  song  is  wrong f" 

Stephen  wished  she  would  not  call  him  "  pro- 
fessor.' ' 

' ' Why,  I  was  n  't  always  so  highly  educated, ' ' 
was  the  only  reply  he  could  think  of. 

Then  Stephen  relapsed  into  an  awkward 
silence  and  grew  still  redder  in  the  effort  to 
appear  at  ease.  The  others  did  not  seem  to 
notice;  they  were  busy  talking.  In  ordinary 
circumstances,  Stephen  assured  himself,  he 
could  think  of  something  to  say.  If  so,  what 
was  wrong  now  of  all  times?  Hadn't  he  come 
on  Miss  Barry's  account!  Where  on  earth 
were  his  brains,  and  why  did  that  left  pump  be- 
gin to  pinch  unmercifully,  horribly,  and — 
"ouch." 

' '  He  's  talking  the  white  rat  language, ' '  ex- 
plained Red. 

"It  's  only  that  left  pump.  I  was  afraid  it 
was  a  little  snug,"  faltered  Stephen,  weakly, 
and  then  Red  led  Miss  Barry  away  to  join 
the  grand  march.  Margery  Miller  and  Johnny 
Roberts  had  taken  their  positions  at  the 
head  of  the  straggling  line;  Wallace  and 
Miss  Barry  had  promised  Roberts  to  come  early 

237 


MAEOON  TALES 

and  help  out  with  some  of  the  new  figures. 
Stephen  and  Charlotte  joined  the  line  well 
back. 

Stephen  and  Miss  Hill  had  cut  a  meeting 
of  a  psychological  society  in  order  to  attend 
the  Prom.  Over  in  Haskell  the  professors  prob- 
ably were  reading  most  important  papers 
as  Stephen  had  foreseen  when  he  asked  Char- 
lotte to  go  to  the  Prom,  the  day  after  Eed 
had  given  him  those  two  dances  with  Miss 
Barry.  Charlotte  had  really  overworked 
herself  on  the  experiments,  he  thought;  she 
needed  recreation.  He  did  not  know  that  she 
had  accepted  because  she  wanted  him  to  get 
away  from  his  books  for  a  time.  They  were 
very  considerate,  for  scientists. 

Charlotte,  in  a  wonderful  pink  gown,  seemec 
utterly  oblivious  of  such  things  as  pyramida 
fibers  and  peripheral  nervous  systems.  No  one 
would  have  asked  that  bright-haired  girl  with 
Stephen  Ansley  for  information  concerning 
kinesthetic  sensations  or  the  medulla  spinalis 
Stephen  thought  she  smiled  in  a  queer  way 
when  he  alluded  to  the  research  experiments 
He  wondered  what  she  meant.     He  tried  to 

238 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

think,  until  the  dancers  formed  in  a  great,  liv- 
ing "C"  and  sang: 

"Tonight  we   gladly   sing   the   praise 
Of  her  who  owns  us  as  her  sons; 
Our  loyal  voices  let  us  raise, 
And  bless  her  with  our  benisons." 

And  the  rest  of  "Alma  Mater/ ' 

"Well,  that  was  over,  and  he  could  sit  down 
and  rest  his  foot.  Perhaps  that  fool  pump 
would  stop.  Stephen  was  wrong;  tight  pumps 
never  stop  until  they  have  tortured  their  vic- 
tims to  the  verge  of  lunacy. 

"Of  course,  we  '11  dance  this,"  he  said  when 
Charlotte  reminded  him  that  the  music  had  be- 
gun. "No,  I  'm  not  limping.  Yes,  I  am  quite 
well,  thanks.' ' 

Stephen  thought  Charlotte  might  have 
guessed  about  the  pump,  but  she  did  not  men- 
tion it.  Elizabeth  Strawn  and  Margery  Miller, 
secured  for  the  second  and  third  dances 
by  Red  Wallace  and  Bugs  Landon,  who  had 
filled  his  program,  were  even  more  thought- 
lessly unconscious  of  his  suffering.  He  forced 
himself  to  give  intelligent  answers  to  the 
silly  remarks  of  these  young  women.  It  would 
be  different  during  the  next  dance;  that  was 

239 


MAEOON  TALES 

with  Helen  Barry.  There  she  was,  dancing 
past  with  Red,  slim  and  graceful  and  pretty 
as — much  prettier  than  he  had  thought,  in  fact 
quite  the  prettiest  girl  he  had  seen,  with  tha 
black  hair  of  hers  all  curly  and  wavy,  and  blacl 
eyes  shining  and  red  lips  always  parted  in  tha 
bewitching  little  laugh.  And  that  frothy  whit< 
gown,  almost  hidden  behind  that  great  blacl 
hulk  of  a  fellow 

Stephen  heard  a  sudden  ripping  sound 
Margery  Miller  extricated  his  left  foot  fron 
the  ruins  of  a  lace  flounce  and  suggestec 
sweetly — almost  too  sweetly — that  they  sit  ou 
the  rest  of  the  waltz  in  that  cute  little  corne: 
over  there.  Miss  Miller  impressed  Stephen  a: 
an  extraordinarily  flighty  and  fidgety  youn^ 
person.  He  wondered  how  she  managed  t< 
keep  up  that  babbling  flow  of  talk  withou 
occasionally  imparting  an  idea.  His  comfor 
was  not  increased  by  his  conviction  tha 
she  considered  him  a  grandmotherly  ol( 
clumsy.  This  was  an  injustice  to  Margery 
who  really  thought  nothing  at  all  on  the  sub 
ject.  But  Stephen  was  sure  she  did,  and  he  wa; 
immensely  relieved  when  an  important  you] 

240 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

junior  strutted  up  to  claim  her  for  the  fourth 
dance. 

The  fourth !  He  had  forgotten  where  he  had 
last  seen  Helen  Barry  and  he  couldn't  make 
out  the  faces  at  the  other  end  of  the  hall.  He 
found  her,  finally,  chatting  with  Johnny 
Roberts  on  the  winding  stairs  of  the  running- 
track.  The  dance  was  half  finished,  and  Roberts 
used  up  a  whole  minute  in  leaving.  In  that 
brief  space  Stephen  forgot  what  he  had 
planned  to  say,  and  the  music  stopped  before 
he  remembered.  Which  was  just  as  well,  as  he 
always  got  mixed  up  in  a  two-step  when  he 
tried  to  talk. 

Stephen's  left  pump  was  boring  a  deep  hole 
in  his  heel,  and  he  longed  to  sit  down,  but  the 
friendly  support  of  even  a  shaky  folding  chair 
was  denied  him.  Miss  Barry  immediately 
dragged  him  upstairs  to  the  track,  where  the 
President  and  four  or  five  of  the  patronesses 
were  holding  court.  Groups  of  dancers  were 
leaning  over  the  railing  and  viewing  the  Prom, 
floor  through  the  leafy  pavilion  roof,  and 
some  were  climbing  the  banks  at  the  turns  of 
the  track  and  sliding  down  again  at  the 
risk  of  damaging  their  magnificent   apparel. 

241 


:aroon 

Most  of  these  were  rank  Junior  College  people 
Stephen  frowned  at  them  and  thought,  cor- 
rectly, that  they  ought  to  be  spanked. 

"I  have  not  asked  you  how  you  like  Eng 
lish  1,"  began  Stephen.  "Everybody  else  has,  o 
course,  but  we  might  as  well  follow  the  pre- 
scribed formula.  Now  you  must  say :  '  Horrid 
is  n't  it?    I  shall  just  scrape  through.'  " 

"It  's  horrid,  yes;  but  I  didn't  even  scrape 
through.    I  got  the  trailer  last  quarter  and  '. 
am  making  it  up  right  now, ' '  replied  the  author 
of     the     brilliant     paper     about     association 
centers. 

Stephen  could  have  choked  some  blundering 
English  1  instructor  for  putting  Helen  Barry 
into  the  trailer  with  a  lot  of  freshman  wooden- 
heads. 

"Well,  those  things  will  happen,"  he  con 
soled  her.  "I  suppose  the  class  was  too  large 
and  some  one  had  to  go." 

That  was  the  rest  of  the  formula.  When  voi 
find  a  freshman  taking  English  3,  you  say 
"How  on  earth  any  one  can  catch  the  trailer  h 
more  than  I  can  see." 

"By  the  way,  do  you  know  Ribot?"  aske 
Stephen.     He  was  beginning  to  remember  his 

242 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

real  purpose  in  cultivating  Miss  Barry's  ac- 
quaintance. He  thought  a  discussion  of  the 
affective  elements  of  consciousness  would  be  ap- 
propriate. "I  have  been  wanting  to  ask  you 
since  that  day  I  took  Professor  White's 
psychology  class.' ' 

"You  mean  that  little  red-haired  Three- 
Quarters  Club  fellow?" 

"I  referred  to  Ribot,  the  psychologist,"  he 
explained. 

"Oh,  that  Lebolt!  I  'm  afraid  I  don't  know 
him,  Professor  Ansley.  Was  he  a  very  ex- 
citing man?" 

Helen  could  have  bluffed  better  than  that; 
but  she  was  engaged  in  poking  her  white  fan 
through  every  third  hole  in  the  wire  railing  and 
counting  the  pokes. 

"Why,  I  was  certain,"  Stephen  said,  "quite 
certain  that  your  paper  contained  a  reference 
to  Ribot 's  work.     It  was  yours,  was  it  not?" 

Helen  misunderstood  the  question,  and 
stopped  poking. 

"No,  it  was  not  mine,  all  of  it,"  she  re- 
turned slowly.  "You  see,  I  don't  even  remem- 
ber what  was  in  the  thing.  I  had  to  write  it  in 
an  hour,  so  I  just  copied  it  out  of  a  book  in  the 

243 


AROON   TALES 

library  at  home.     It  was  a  silly,  high  schoo 
trick,  and  I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  flunked  for 
it.    I  Ve  felt  like  a  criminal  ever  since. ' p 

Stephen  felt  like  a  criminal,  too.  Red  Wal 
lace  rushed  up  just  then,  and  the  instructo 
limped  toward  the  opposite  stairway  to 
find  Charlotte — Charlotte  and  a  seat.  Yes 
he  believed  he  would  sit  down  for  a  while,  h 
told  Miss  Hill.  Fifteen  minutes  of  blissful  re 
lease  from  that  inane  hopping  about  the  floor 

"Don't  you  sometimes  wonder  at  the  pleasur 
otherwise  sensible  people  seem  to  get  out  o 
all  this  jumping  and  sliding  f  "  he  said. 

"Where  is  your  psychology V9  laughed  Mis 
Hill.  "No,  I  don't  wonder.  I  just  jump  anc 
slide,  too.  So  do  the  guinea  pigs,  in  their  own 
way." 

"The  guinea  pigs  are  rather  awkward,  yo 
know,"  Stephen  sparred.  "We  found  that  out 
That  big  fellow  in  cage  C,  now — number  4 — ! 
imagine,  is  a  good  deal  like  me.  You  remembe 
how  clever  he  was  for  a  while  and  how  he  solve* 
the  labyrinth  when  he  was  three  days  old  am 
never  got  any  farther  and  never  will?  He  i 
an  old  fogy.  I  'm  sure  he  would  not  enjo; 
a  two-step." 

244 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

"Number  4  was  born  a  guinea  pig;  it  was  n't 
his  fault,"  Charlotte  objected.  "At  least  give 
him  credit  for  finding  the  center  of  the  maze 
at  the  inconsiderable  age  of  three  days.  It 
is  n't  every  one  who  arrives  at  such  an  achieve- 
ment at  that  period.  And  I  can't  help  think- 
ing that  he  is  contented.  Your  rats,  for  in- 
stance, are  only  learning  to  crawl  at  three 
days." 

"Very  true,"  admitted  Stephen.  "Number 
4  had  one  precocious  success  and  then  stopped 
stock  still.  A  plain  case  of  abnormal  psychi- 
cal and  neural  maturity.  You  see,  he  could 
not  possibly  be  a  good  dancer.  He  would  be 
hopelessly  out  of  place  at  a  Prom." 

Charlotte  smiled  at  Stephen's  tottering 
logic. 

"I  am  the  same  way,"  he  continued.  "Very 
likely  I  was  a  wonderful  baby.  I  thought 
I  was  a  wonderful  freshman  once — for  a  very 
short  time.  But  I  was  not.  I  was  the  guinea 
pig  type.  If  I  had  been  a  white  rat  freshman, 
I  should  have  spent  three  days  in  learning  to 
crawl  and  then  I  'd  have  astonished  the  whole 
campus  by  my  remarkable  and  ever  increasing 
ability  to  do  a  fair  amount  of  everything.     I 

245 


MAEOON  TALES 

should  have  been  like  Eed  Wallace.  Ke 
could  not  have  solved  a  simple  labyrinth  when 
he  came  here.  He  knew  everybody  by  name  be- 
fore he  had  stayed  a  month.  I  went  in  for  a 
Ph.D.  and  now  I  seem  to  have  it  safe — and  very 
little  else.  I  confess  that  I  envy  Eed,  and  white 
rats,  their  cleverness." 

"  Which  should  prove  what  you  started  ou 
to  prove,  but  does   not,"   laughed   Charlotte. 
"Now,  you  had  better  find  your  next  partner. 
I  see  Mr.  Landon  coming  for  me." 

Stephen  began   to   regret  that  he  had   the 
twelfth  dance  with  Helen  Barry;  for  life  is 
not  worth  living  when  one's  left  foot  is  the  size 
and  temperature  of  a  bushel  of  boiling  potatoes. 
Stephen's  left  foot  was  gradually  assuming  this 
unfortunate  condition.    Long  before  the  twelfth 
he  felt  that  his  very  existence  was  a  hatefu 
and  burdensome  thing.     He  would  have  wel- 
comed a   sudden   earthquake — a  kind,   accom 
modating  convulsion  of  nature  that  would  have 
shaken  the  whole  Prom,  to  fragments  without 
hurting    anybody,    except   to    destroy   all   the 
pumps.    He  was  sure  he  wanted  no  one  perma 
nently  crippled ;  at  any  rate,  not  Charlotte. 

Miss  Hill  was  very  kind  to  suggest  going 

246 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTOEATE 

home  when  she  discovered  his  tragic  state  after 
the  eighth,  Stephen  thought,  but  of  course  he 
could  not  agree  to  that.  He  slipped  the 
patent  leather  torture  off  for  an  ecstatic  mo- 
ment, while  Charlotte  shielded  his  foot  with 
her  pink  skirt,  but  the  difficulty  he  encountered 
when  he  tried  to  put  it  on  again  and  the  memory 
of  the  ghastly  second  when  it  seemed  he  never 
could  get  it  back  in  time  to  hobble  the  necessary 
ten  miles  after  Professor  White's  giggling 
young  daughter,  warned  him  against  further 
liberties  of  that  sort. 

Stephen  expected  to  find  Miss  Barry  still 
penitent,  perhaps  tearful,  as  the  result  of 
her  confession  about  the  " cribbed' '  Psychology 
paper.  But  she  had  evidently  forgotten — so 
many  things  were  more  pleasant  to  remember 
and  to  talk  about.  She  told  Stephen  what  a 
perfectly  lovely  waltzer  Mr.  Landon  was,  and 
wasn't  Mr.  Wallace  funny,  and  wasn't  Mar- 
gery Miller  cute  and  was  n't  Miss  Hill  adorable 
and  sweet  and  noble-looking!  Yes,  Stephen 
silently  agreed,  Charlotte  tvas  a  charming  girl, 
and  that  young  Professor  Dace  was  a  lucky 
dog.  Charlotte  was  reasonably  calm  and  could 
say  a  sensible  thing  sometimes;  she  was  not 

247 


MAEOON  TALES 

forever  chattering  about  nothing  at  all,  lik 
like  some  girls. 

Stephen  and  Helen  immured  themselves  be- 
hind a  group  of  poisonous-green  rubber  plants. 
Eed  Wallace  and  Charlotte  found  them  there. 

"This  was  the  supper  dance,  and  I  didn't 
know  it.  Everybody  's  gone  to  Hutchinson.  I  'm 
starving/'  cried  Red.  He  shot  a  dark  glance 
at  Stephen  and  slid  away  with  Helen. 

"White  rats,  both  of  them,"  Stephen  ob- 
served. "And  perfect  specimens.  They  will 
be  nibbling  their  lettuce  in  two  minutes.'' 

What  happened  then  has  never  been  recorded 
in  The  Daily  Maroon,  and  thereby  a  certain 
member  of  the  faculty  has  been  spared  much. 
Stephen  Ansley  sent  two  shining  patent  leather 
pumps  flying  through  an  open  window  into  the 
frosty  outer  air. 

"I  'm  going  to  Hitchcock  after  some  real 
shoes,' '  he  announced,  limping  happily  after 
Charlotte. 

Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  Psych.  1  instructor 
doing  that  sort  of  thing? 

That  would  have  looked  bad  enough  in  The 
Maroon.  But  the  story  of  how  Charlotte 
waited,   shivering,   in  the   corridor  under   the 

248 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

Tower,  while  Stephen,  hatless  and  pumpless, 
dashed  down  Fifty-Seventh  Street,  through 
Hull  Gate  and  into  his  room,  how  Stephen  dived 
madly,  desperately,  under  his  bed  and  scrambled 
wildly  about  in  a  mass  of  haberdashery  in  a 
vain  attempt  to  find  two  shoes  that  would  mate, 
and  how  finally  he  climbed  and  fell  through  a 
neighboring  transom  and  emerged  disheveled 
and  breathless  with  Professor  Hodge's  Sunday 
shoes, — all  this  would  have  made  Petey  Strong, 
of  The  Maroon,  a  famous  man.  Petey  would 
have  given  his  bull-pup  for  a  yarn  like  that. 

Charlotte  was  almost  freezing;  Stephen,  in 
Hitchcock,  was  smearing  Professor  Hodge's 
property,  and  his  fingers,  with  blacking.  Char- 
lotte stamped  her  toes  on  the  cold  stone  floor; 
Stephen  came  rushing  back,  a  large,  inky, 
spattered  streak  stretching  diagonally  across 
his  face,  and  three  gaping  wounds  in  coat  and 
trousers. 

Charlotte's  little  silver  mirror  told  him 
about  his  face.  Charlotte's  tiny  lace  handker- 
chief developed  the  streak  into  an  evenly 
spread,  shiny,  circular  smudge.  No  wonder  the 
colored  gentleman  in  the  check-room  side- 
stepped nervously  when  Stephen  called  for  his 

249 


MAEOON  TALES 

"hat  and  shoes.' '  The  colored  gentleman  ha 
a  horrible  fear  of  maniacs,  harmless  or  othei 
wise.  He  was  only  partially  reassured  whe: 
the  strange  person  met  a  pink-frocked  youn; 
woman  in  the  hall  and  departed  without  fui 
ther  sign  of  his  sad  state. 

Ten  minutes  later  Stephen  was  standin; 
alone  outside  of  Beecher,  trying  to  believ 
that  he  was  only  a  mild  sort  of  fool  fo 
messing  up  the  Prom.  He  looked  up  at  the  iv; 
on  the  walls,  and  wondered  what  Charlott 
thought.  Over  in  Bartlett,  Red  Wallace  an< 
Helen  Barry  were  whirling  about  in  a  fast  two 
step.  Stephen  did  not  wonder  what  the: 
thought.    He  did  n't  care. 


250 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTOEATE 


IV 


"By  the  way,  Bed." 

Squib  Morris  swung  round  on  the  piano-stool 
and  faced  a  pile  of  highly  colored  pillows  repos- 
ing on  the  window-seat  of  the  Rho  music  room. 
The  pillows  stirred  expectantly.  One  of  them, 
portraying  a  much  coiffured  and  bejew- 
eled  young  woman  tending  a  flock  of  gigantic 
ultramarine  sheep,  fell  to  the  floor. 

■ '  By  the  way,  Red, ' '  repeated  Squib. 

"That  makes  two  by  the  ways,"  came  the 
muffled  voice  of  Red  Wallace. 

"I  suppose  you  have  heard  that  Stephen 
Ansley  drew  Helen  Barry's  card  for  the  Foster 
annual  1 J ' 

"Stephen  Ansley!"  Red  flopped  round  and 
immediately  flopped  back.  "Why,  of  course. 
Now  if  you  have  anything  to  say,  be  brief. 
I  'm  reading." 

"Oh,  I've  said  it  already,"  and  Squib  once 
more  attacked  the  piano. 

"Thanks,  so  much,"  said  Red,  wearily,  lean- 
ing over  to  rescue  the  haughty  shepherdess. 

251 


MAROON  TALES 


"You  know  almost  everything,  don't  you. 
Squibby?  Now  smoke  a  cigarette  or  something, 
and  if  it  's  all  the  same  to  you,  keep  as  quiel 
as  possible.' ' 

Having  thus  neatly  disguised  his  real  feel 
ings,  Eed  viciously  turned  The  Daily  Maroo 
and  looked   out   of   the  window.     So   it  was 
Stephen  Ansley  after  all.     One  stingy  invita- 
tion to  pay  for  the  Prom,  and  then — Ansley 
Not    that    he    would    allow    himself    to    pine 
away   over   a  Foster   dance   or  Helen   Barry 
or  any  one  else.     Oh,  no!    He  would  simply 
ask    one    of    the    million    or    so    other    girls 
to  the  Eho  formal.    Perhaps  somebody  woulc 
take    Helen;    perhaps    not.      Maybe    Stephen 
would  ask  her.    Well,  let  him!    Eed  rumpled 
his  paper  again  and  began  reading  the  sub 
scription  rates  on  page  two,  column  one.  Also 
he  read  the  names  of  the  reporting  staff,  an  edi 
torial  on  the  necessity  of  everybody's  coming 
out  for  the  debate,  and  a  terribly  smart  "com 
munication"  about  something  that  seemed  t 
call  for  superior  diction  and  several  Latin  epi 
grams.    Eed  despised  people  who  wrote  "com 
munications"  to  The  Maroon;  especially  thos 

252 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

who  used  big  words  and  tried  to  show  off.  So 
he  said  i  '  Rot ! ' '  and  began  on  column  two. 

''What  say?''  inquired  Squib. 

There  was  no  answer.  Red  was  glancing 
down  the  official  list  of  candidates  for  degrees 
at  the  March  Convocation.  He  wanted  to  see 
whether  Lawrence  was  going  to  graduate  this 
time,  or  just  thought  he  was,  as  usual.  No, 
Lawrie's  name  was  not  there.  Red  skipped 
most  of  the  other  degrees.  Bachelors  of 
Divinity  and  Masters  of  Art  are  usually 
people  you  never  heard  of,  anyhow.  Doc- 
tors of  Philosophy  are  more  interesting;  you 
have  to  do  such  an  impossible  amount  of  work 
to  be  one.  He  looked  at  the  names  at  the 
bottom  of  the  page,  Stephen  Ansley  headed 
the  list  of  Ph.Ds.  Miss  Charlotte  Hill  came 
next.  Stephen  and  Miss  Hill  were  going  to 
get  their  doctor's  diplomas  together!  Red's 
mental  reaction  was  simple.  The  Rho  formal, 
the  Foster  annual  and  two  graduate  students 
were  concerned  in  it. 

"Squibby  dear,  whom  are  you  going  to  take 
to  our  formal?"  he  asked. 

"Why,  Miss  Parks,  Helen  Barry's  cousin. 
Weren't  we  four  all  going  together?" 

253 


MAROON   TALES 

"No,  I  guess  not.  I  think  I  shall  take  Miss 
Hill — Stephen  Ansley's  friend,  you  know."  Red 
was  using  all  his  easy  nonchalance.  "I  'm  go- 
ing to  ask  her  this  evening.  Have  you  got 
another  one  of  those  Amenhoteps?  Thanks. 
Play  that  raggy  thing  again." 

Squib  struck  the  first  bars  of  a  funeral  march 
instead.  He  had  seen  hundreds  of  those  mushy 
campus  love  affairs  go  to  pieces.  Even  Rho 
formals  made  small  appeal  to  him.  Squib  was 
eighteen. 

The  philosophy  of  Red  Wallace  was  more 
mature.  Red  frequently,  and  noisily,  thanked 
Heaven  that  he  was  not  one  of  those  blase  chaps 
who  are  always  getting  off  cheap  humor  about 
college  life  and  college  romance.  He  had  an 
abiding  faith  in  Professor  Sand's  quarterly 
lecture,  which  taught  that  the  college  campus 
is  the  real  world  and  not  merely  a  preparation 
for  life.  The  professor's  sentiment  squared 
nicely  with  Red's  own  ideas;  it  was  pleasant 
and  comfortable  and  logical,  if  you  looked  at  it 
in  a  certain  way.  Red  accepted  it  and  elab- 
orated it  into  a  glorification  of  Foster  annuals 
and  Rho  formals.  This  made  it  all  the  more 
pleasant  and  comfortable  and  logical. 

254 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

Helen  Barry  had  disappointed  him.  He  de- 
cided he  was  quite  right  in  asking  Miss  Hill. 
This  was  during  dinner.  He  was  not  so  sure 
as  he  walked  toward  Beecher  Hall  at  eight 
o'clock.  He  feared  Miss  Hill  might  think  his 
invitation  strange.  Maybe  she  had  expected 
Stephen  Ansley  to  ask  her.  But  Stephen  would 
probably  be  walking  in  the  park  with  Helen. 
Red  would  have  felt  more  at  ease  had  he  been 
certain  how  he  would  spite  anybody  by  taking 
Miss  Charlotte  Hill  of  Beecher  Hall  to  the  Rho 
dance.  He  was  weakening  as  he  rang  the  bell. 
The  maid  ushered  him  at  once  into  the  presence 
of  Miss  Hill — and  Stephen  Ansley. 

"How  do  you  do,  Miss  Hill?  How  do, 
Stephen  ? ' '  he  managed  to  say.  Then  Red  Wal- 
lace, junior  militant  and  dancing  man  extraor- 
dinary, plumped  foolishly  into  the  nearest 
chair  and  had  to  be  encouraged  to  talk. 

"Mr.  Ansley  has  finally  eaten  a  Beecher 
dinner,' '  Miss  Hill  was  saying.  "It  has  taken 
him  a  year  to  make  the  plunge.' ' 

What  an  empty  remark !  Well,  he  would  have 
to  say  something.  He  couldn't  stare  at  that 
hideous  water-color  much  longer. 

255 


MAEOON   TALES 

"I  came  over  to  congratulate  you — both  of 
you,"  he  blurted.  "Everybody  thinks  it  's  great. 
Of  course  we  knew  it  all  the  time." 

This  statement  produced  a  most  alarming 
change  in  the  atmosphere.  Stephen  looked 
rather  pale  and  smiled  painfully.  Miss  Hill 
seemed  to  be  hesitating  between  flight  and  col- 
lapse. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  mean  that,"  stammered  Eed. 
"I  meant  about  your  taking  your  doctor's  de- 
grees at  Convocation  tomorrow.  It  was  in  The 
Maroon." 

"Oh,  yes.  Doctor's  degree — Maroon"  Ste- 
phen agreed  vacantly. 

"Daily  Maroon"  murmured  Miss  Hill.  "Of 
course." 

Red  was  beyond  his  depth.  He  wallowed  on, 
blindly,  shamelessly. 

"Oh,"  he  said,  "I  knew— that  is,  I  had 
heard  that  you  and  Professor  Dace — Stephen 
told  me  that  he " 

"Dear  old  Professor  Dace,  who  taught  me 
my  very  letters,"  laughed  Miss  Hill.  "He  calls 
himself  my  father  of  learning,  though  he  has  a 
large  enough  family  of  his  own.  What  did  you 
hear  about  him — about  us?" 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

Stephen  took  off  his  glasses  and  rubbed  them. 

"I  heard  he  was  still  as  hale  and  hearty  as 
ever,"  Red  lied. 

"The  dear  old  professor  has  been  an  in- 
valid for  years,"  returned  Miss  Hill.  And 
Red  began  wallowing  again. 

Stephen  was  wondering  where  on  earth  he 
had  heard  that  gossip  about  Charlotte's  en- 
gagement to  "young  Professor  Dace"  and  why 
he  had  been  idiot  enough  to  believe  it. 

"You  and  Stephen  are  going  to  teach  next 
year,  aren't  you?"  Red  floundered  on. 

"We  have  some  more  research  work  in  view 
for  next  quarter, ' 9  Charlotte  said. 

"Yes — for  a  year  or  more.  Several  years  in 
fact,"  broke  in  Stephen.  Charlotte  glanced  at 
him  questioningly,  eyebrows  raised.  Stephen 
blushed  violently  and  brushed  an  imaginary 
spot  from  his  cuff.  Red  Wallace  looked  from 
one  to  the  other.  Then  he  arose  and  shook 
hands  and  mumbled  something  about  "exams" 
— "A  bunch  of  irregular  French  verbs,  and  you 
know  what  they  are."  He  would  have  time  to 
call  up  Helen,  if  he  hurried. 

"I  think  I  shall  remain  a  while,"  Stephen 

257 


MAROON   TALES 


said.    "Miss  Hill  and  I  have  our  research  plans 
to  discuss. ' ' 

Cutting  across  the  Midway,  Bed  thought  that 
Stephen  really  need  n  't  have  laid  it  on  so  labor 
iously  about  the  research.    Foxy  old  Stephen 

When  the  Beecher  clock  strikes  ten,  it  is  time 
to  go  home.    Stephen  stayed  till  eleven. 

Candidates  for  the  doctorate  should  not  be 
excited  on  Convocation  Day.    They  were  bach- 
elors long  ago.    Besides,  they  have  "  problems ' 
to  think  out.     But  Stephen  Ansley  had  been 
rather    agitated    all    day.     The    Matutinal  a 
the  Quadrangle  Club  had  been  the  first  note 
worthy  event  of  the  morning.    He  had  sat  be 
side  Charlotte  and  afterwards  had  walked  wit 
her  to  Beecher.    That  had  been  the  second  note 
worthy  event.    And  now,  as  he  slipped  on  hi 
doctor's  gown,  he  wondered  if  he  should  be 
seated  next  Charlotte  at  Convocation.    He  took 
a  last  look  at  himself  in  the  small  oval  mirror  on 
the  dresser,  and  transferred  his  Eho  badge  from 
his  gray  waistcoat  to  his  black  one.    Then  he 
unfastened  it  and  sat  down  and  looked  at  it. 

He  had  owned  the  little  gold  badge  for  eight 
years,  never  once  forgetting  to  wear  it,  never 

258 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

even  dreaming  of  surrendering  it  to  any  of  the 
girls  who  had  called  it  just  cute,  and  who  would 
have  loved  to  fasten  their  collars  in  the  back 
with  it,  or  to  place  it  more  prominently  in 
the  center  of  their  glittering  assortments  of 
high  school  and  club  trophies.  Stephen  and  the 
badge  had  learned  a  good  deal  together.  And 
long  before  he  knew  these  things  so  well,  he  had 
an  excellent  reason  for  keeping  it,  for  the 
Rhos  had  a  solemnly  worded  rule  stating  that 
the  official  badge  of  the  fraternity  might  be 
given  only  to  one's  mother,  one's  sister  or 
one's  fiancee.  The  Rhos  usually  obeyed 
the  rule.  Occasionally  a  very  young  fresh- 
man or  sophomore  added  his  pin  to  the  col- 
lection of  some  very  young  freshman  or  sopho- 
more girl,  but  just  as  often  he  went  trotting 
back  after  it  when  he  had  been  sufficiently  lec- 
tured. Only  the  night  before,  Stephen  had  been 
telling  Charlotte  about  a  case  of  that  kind.  She 
had  pitied  poor  little  Petey  Strong,  who  hap- 
pened to  be  the  latest  offender  against  Rho  law. 
Charlotte,  who  hated  sentiment,  Charlotte,  the 
scientific  young  woman,  who  loved  only  the 
ugly,  slouching  guinea  pigs  of  the  laboratory, 
had  felt  sorry  for  Petey. 

259 


MAEOON  TALES 

His  chair  tilted  back  against  the  wall,  Ste- 
phen pondered  this  deeply.  He  saw  Charlotte 
on  her  knees  beside  him  in  front  of  a  wire  cage 
in  the  basement  of  Anatomy.  She  was  looking 
straight  into  his  eyes  and  speaking  to  him — 
about  an  infundibulum  and  an  optic  chiasm. 
He  saw  her  in  Beecher,  seated  very  near  him, 
smiling  gloriously  and  confiding  her  love — for 
the  guinea  pigs.  It  was  the  same  in  every  pic- 
ture— always  this  futile  talk  of  futile  things, 
and  always  a  little  spot  just  over  her  heart,  a 
cold,  lonesome  little  spot,  that  should  have  held 
a  plain  gold  pin.  He  replaced  his  badge  anc 
squinted  down  his  nose  at  it.  It  was  time  for 
the  procession  to  form. 

When  he  reached  Hutchinson,  the  Heac 
Marshal  was  making  a  final  hasty  review  of  the 
irregular  files  of  candidates.  Excited  studen 
Marshals  were  rushing  about  mending  the 
breaks  in  the  ranks  and  informing  wide-eyec 
sophomore  associates  who  wandered  out  oi 
bounds,  that  they  simply  must  keep  their  alpha- 
betical positions  unless  they  wanted  to  spoil  the 
whole  show. 

Stephen  hurried  down  the  black-gowned  lines, 
past  the  chattering  sophomores  and  the  quieter 

260 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTOEATE 

seniors,  and  into  his  place  beside  Char- 
lotte at  the  head  of  the  Doctors  of  Philosophy- 
just  as  the  procession  began  to  move  forward 
to  the  strains  of  the  organ  sounding  from  Man- 
del.  And  it  seemed  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world  that  he  should  be  in  that  particular 
place — that  he  and  Charlotte  should  march  to- 
gether down  the  sunny  corridor  into  Man- 
del.  Eed  Wallace  and  Helen  Barry,  waiting 
outside  the  door,  waved  to  them  out  of  the  gray 
light,  and  Stephen  and  Charlotte  smiled  hap- 
pily at  the  children.  Between  Stephen  and  Bed 
there  passed  a  swift,  sidelong  glance  of  com- 
plete understanding. 

The  funereal  solemnity  of  the  professors  as 
they  passed  on  toward  the  stage  may  have 
looked  impressive  to  some  of  the  audience. 
Stephen,  standing  beside  Charlotte  in  the  sec- 
tion reserved  for  the  doctors,  hardly  noticed 
the  United  Faculties  of  Arts,  Literature,  and 
Science,  stalking  by  in  their  robes  of  office.  The 
Vice-President  of  the  University  Congregation 
and  the  Vice-President  of  the  Board  of 
Trustees,  and  the  President  of  the  Board  of 
Trustees  and  the  Convocation  Chaplain  might 
have  been  the  lowliest  "sophs."  Even  the  Con- 

261 


MAROON  TALES 


vocation  Orator  and  the  President  of  the  Uni- 
versity, whose  progress  down  the  long  aisle  was 
followed  by  a  great  craning  of  necks  and  buzzing 
whispers  of  " There  he  is,"  " There  they  are," 
failed  to  interest  Stephen,  who  was  gazing  ab- 
stractedly at  the  mud-colored  hair  of  the  young 
man  in  the  next  row  and  listening  to  the  deep, 
bass  roar  of  the  organ-pipes.  When  every- 
body gasped  and  sat  down,  or  sat  down  and 
gasped,  he  forgot  to  remove  his  cap,  because 
the  owner  of  the  mud-colored  mop  was  a  Mar- 
shal, and  privileged  to  remain  covered.  Char- 
lotte told  him  to  take  it  off.  Which  also  seemed 
perfectly  natural  and  not  in  the  least  em- 
barrassing. 

Then  the  Convocation  Orator,  a  very  thin 
and  frightened-looking  person  with  a  very  thin 
voice,  began  to  speak.  He  had  views  about 
something  connected  with  the  cosmic  forces ;  no 
one  could  be  quite  sure  what  they  were,  for  he 
grew  more  and  more  inaudible  as  he  approached 
them  along  a  mental  path  of  many  windings. 
Why,  oh  why,  wondered  the  sophomore  asso- 
ciates, couldn't  he  tell  his  secret  and  sit  down 
and  give  somebody  else  a  chance  ? 

Stephen  didn't  mind.  The  pictures  had  come 

262 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTOKATE 

back  again  and  the  thin  voice  seemed  quite  far 
away;  so  did  the  music  of  the  organ  after  the 
address,  and  the  voice  of  the  President  as  he 
announced  the  awards  of  honors.  Charlotte  was 
smiling  now  in  every  picture;  smiling  quizzi- 
cally out  of  the  eyes  that  were  sort  of  blue. 
Stephen  smiled,  too,  and  did  not  bother  to 
squint  at  the  close-serried  ranks  of  sophomore 
associates  and  bachelors  crowding  past  the 
President's  chair  up  in  front.  But  he  did 
look  once,  wondering,  at  the  real  Charlotte 
sitting  beside  him.  That  was  why  he  dared 
give  her  hand  a  little  congratulatory  squeeze 
as  he  saw  the  tall  senior  Marshal  making 
toward  the  doctor's  section.  There  was  a  small 
gold  pin  in  the  middle  of  that  squeeze ;  it  nestled 
there  in  a  small  and  trembling  white  hand.  The 
Marshal,  who  happened  to  be  Bugs  Landon, 
touched  Stephen  on  the  arm  and  wigwagged 
the  six  doctors  into  a  standing  line  by  a  system 
of  upward  and  sidewise  jerks  of  his  square 
chin. 

Stephen's  knees  felt  just  a  bit  wabbly  and 
his  head  just  a  bit  light  and  queer  as  he 
trailed  after  Bugs  to  the  stage.  It  was  rather 
upsetting,    after    all.     He    bowed    before    it 

263 


MAEOON  TALES 

was  time  when  Bugs  left  him  in  front  of  the 
row  of  deans,  facing  the  great  carved  chair 
where  the  President  sat.  The  Dean  of  the 
Graduate  Schools  recited  his  Latin  presenta- 
tion formula  without  stopping  for  breath  or 
missing  so  much  as  a  single  prefix.  The  Presi- 
dent muttered  something  in  the  same  tongue, 
complacently  disregarding  the  feelings  of  the 
sophomore  associates,  who  couldn't  under- 
stand a  word  of  it. 

"  Stephen  Newcomb  Ansley,"  announced  the 
Dean  of  the  Graduate  Schools. 

"Doodle-dee  dum-dum-de-doodle  dee-dee," 
said  the  President.  At  least  that  was  the  way 
Petey  Strong  of  The  Maroon  wrote  it  down  in 
his  notes.  Petey  thought  that  was  awfully 
funny;  nearly  as  funny  as  the  way  Stephen 
ducked  his  head  and  almost  choked  when  the 
dean  slipped  the  heavy,  maroon-lined  hood  over 
his  shoulders  and  pulled  the  blue  neck-band  into 
place  with  a  sharp  tug. 

"  Tum-da-teedle  doodle  lump-te-dee, ' '  added 
the  President.  Petey  Strong  bit  the  end  off  his 
best  pencil  because  Stephen  tried  to  take  his 
diploma  before  the  President  got  to  his  final 
"doodle-dum"  or  whatever  it  was  he  was  say- 
ing. 

°  264 


INCLUDING  THE  DOCTORATE 

Stephen  Ansley,  Ph.D.,  moved  to  the  edge 
of  the  stage,  where  Bugs  was  waiting,  and 
stood  very  straight  while  the  clapping  of 
hands  died  out.  The  President  was  speaking 
again.  That  was  Charlotte's  hood  going  over 
her  shoulders;  and  that  was  Charlotte's 
diploma.  A  great  wave  of  sound  came  up  from 
the  hundreds  in  front  and  rose  to  a  storm  of 
applause  as  the  two  doctors  stood  side  by  side 
on  the  first  step.  Stephen  risked  his  footing  to 
turn  toward  Charlotte.  And  there,  on  that 
spot  over  her  heart,  shone  a  little  plain  gold 
badge. 


265 


THE  GREAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

THE  news  editor  of  The  Daily  Maroon 
said  lie  feared  Petey  Strong  was  no  good, 
a  sentiment  which  Petey  cheerfully,  even  en- 
thusiastically, approved.  Petey  admitted  that 
he  was  awful  on  grammar  and  all  that,  but  he 
thought  it  would  be  fine  sport  to  be  a  hustler. 
His  parents  agreed  that  he  might  as  well  try 
The  Maroon  as  anything  else.  His  mother 
hoped  it  would  improve  his  spelling — Petey  had 
an  orthographic  system  of  his  own — and  his 
father  said  he  would  be  willing  to  buy  the  col- 
lege paper  if  it  would  keep  Petey  quiet  for  a 
few  minutes.  And  so  the  freshman  approached 
his  task  with  none  of  the  reverence  that  a  hust- 
ler should  have,  and  the  news  editor  noticed  it. 
Petey  Strong  greatly  needed  some  work  to 
get  him  interested  and  a  partner  to  remind  him 
continually  that  he  was  enjoying  himself. 
He  found  both  in  an  hour  and  a  quarter;  it 
took  him  just  that  long  to  cover  his  first  as- 
signment and  sight  the  tall,  awkward  figure 
and  the  turned-up  nose  of  Sylvester  Fielding. 

267 


MAROON  TALES 

The  news  editor  sent  him  to  see  Professor 
Bland  about  the  Seventh  Annual  Conference 
of  the  Teachers  of  Geology  and  Paleontology 
of  the  Colleges  and  Preparatory  Schools  of  the 
North  Central  and  Immediately  Adjoining 
States,  and  he  copied  six  sheets  of  paper  full 
of  large,  queer  words  out  of  the  program,  and 
wrote  a  hundred  short  words  for  The  Maroon, 
as  the  news  editor  ordered.  He  was  just  think- 
ing how  easy  it  was  when  Sylvester  came  into 
the  office. 

" Hello,  there,   Peter!     Going   to  be   a   re- 
porter t"  said  Sylvester. 

" Hello,  there,  Silver!    You  've  guessed  it," 
said  Petey. 

"You  '11  be  a  fine  rotten  one." 

"You  '11  be  worse,  and  that  's  some  comfort. 

"You're  dotty." 

"Same  to  you.    What  time  is  it?" 

Then  they  clattered  out  to  Gym.  class,  scat- 
tering a  bunch  of  copy  to  the  floor  as  they 
brushed  by  the  desk.  And  the  news  editor 
decided  that  the  small,  black-eyed,  bristly 
haired  one  was  probably  impudent,  and  that 
the  gawky,  pug-nosed  one  said  "huh"  interro- 
gatively and  looked  blank  when  addressed.  The 

268 


it," 
rt." 


THE  GEEAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

news  editor  watched  them  springing  past  the 
window  and  then  turned  to  calm  the  other  hust- 
lers, who  were  inquiring,  in  chorus,  please  what 
should  they  do  next ;  and  he  wondered  what  the 
paper  was  coming  to. 

Petey  was  not  even  certain  of  his  own  rela- 
tion to  The  Maroon,  so  of  course  he  did  not 
know  the  duties  of  the  rest  of  the  people  in  the 
office.  There  were  twice  as  many  on  the  second 
day,  and  he  could  not  identify  them  simply  by 
looking  at  their  names  in  the  list  on  the  editor- 
ial page.  When  he  inquired,  he  discovered  that 
he  would  be  permitted  to  try  for  a  place  on  a 
very  powerful  organization  known  as  the  staff, 
and  that  if  he  labored  diligently  and  humbly, 
as  befitted  his  position  as  one  of  the  nine  hust- 
lers, he  might  possibly  become  a  reporter  along 
about  Winter  Quarter.  The  reporters,  he  was 
told,  were  those  six  very  busy  fellows  who 
talked  loudest  and  wrote  most  furiously  and 
looked  immensely  pleased  or  coldly  judicial, 
as  they  happened  to  be  contemplating  their 
own  or  another's  stories.  They,  though  it 
was  almost  unthinkable,  had  once  been  hust- 
lers themselves.  And  the  six  associate  editors — 
they  seemed  to  come  in  half-dozen  lots — were 

269 


MAKOON   TALES 


the  godlike  creatures  who  stuck  their  feet  01 
the  table  and  yawned  and  gave  advice  every  sc 
often.  They  were  sort  of  " super-reporters' ' 
who  had  "done  time.''  Katherine  Snowden  and 
Margery  Miller,  the  women  editors,  were  sen- 
iors. Miss  Snowden  was  the  one  with  blacfc 
eyes,  and  Miss  Miller  was  the  one  with  the 
brown  curly  hair. 

Paul  Leeming,  the  athletic  editor,  was  the 
slim  fellow  with  the  spectacles  on  the  end  of 
his  nose,  reading  copy;   and  Hal  North,  the 
blond  fellow  with  the  thin  lips  and  humorous 
eyes,  was  the  managing  editor  and  the  top  o 
the  heap,  and  he  wrote  the  best  editorials  tha 
ever  were  printed.     Chalmers,  the  big"  sobe 
faced   news    editor — but    of    course   he   kne 
Chalmers — everybody  did.    The  business  man- 
ager was  the  one  at  the  roll-top  desk  in  the  cor 
ner,  who  glowered  and  ate  pencils  and  kep 
telling  the  stenographer  to  "cut  out  that  las 
sentence/ * 

"It  will  probably  take  me  two  or  three  years 
to  become  managing  editor,' ■  thought  Petey 
when  he  had  been  enlightened.    For  he  had  re 
solved  to  rise. 

That  afternoon  he  remembered    that    ther 


270 


THE  GREAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

was  an  unsettled  question  of  journalistic  effi- 
ciency between  himself  and  Silver  Fielding. 

*  '  Hello,  Silver !  Do  you  still  think  I  *m  a  rot- 
ten hustler  V '  he  said  as  they  met  in  the  bath  at 
the  gym. 

Silver  jumped  into  the  warm  shower  beside 
Petey. 

"Yes,  don't  you?" 

"Maybe,  but  I  've  thought  up  a  way  to  find 
out  which  is  rottener. ' ' 

"Come  through  with  it." 

1 '  We  '11  save  our  strings. ' ' 

"What  strings?" 

"I  mean  each  of  us  will  cut  out  his  own  arti- 
cles and  paste  'em  together,  and  the  one  that 
gets  the  longest  one — see?" 

Silver  turned  the  brass  handle  marked 
"cold"  and  flipped  a  handful  of  soapy  water 
in  Petey 's  face.  "Well,  Peter,"  he  laughed, 
"I  '11  just  say  this.  If  I  can  't  manage  to  get 
more  than  you  do  in  The  Maroon  this  quarter 
I  '11 — boo-oh,  this  water  's  freezing — I  '11  eat  the 
gargoyles  off  the  Reynolds  Club.  Because  I — 
boo-oo-oh — I  know  you." 

Petey  did  not  happen  to  like  that  re- 
mark, nor  the  laugh  that  went  with  it.     He 

271 


MAROON   TALES 


„ 


stopped  spatting  his  brown  sides  and  said, 
' '  You  do,  do  you  1 ' '  and  looked  up  at  Silver  with 
a  cold,  steady  stare  that  meant  fight  when  he 
was  younger,  while  Silver  looked  down  at  him 
and  seemed  to  be  vastly  amused. 

"You  're  sure  you  know  all  about  me?"  he 
repeated,  still  glaring. 

They  stood  there,  dripping  and  shivering,  an 
measured  each  other  up  and  down  for  a  mo- 
ment, as  if  that  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  the 
argument. 

"Oh,  well.    We  '11  try  your  little  plan  if  you 
feel  that  way  about  it, ' '  said  Silver. 

"Yes,  we  will  try  it,  and  that  's  the  way  I  feel 
about  it.    We  '11  start  tomorrow,' '  said  Petey. 

And  then  and  there  began  the  remarkable 
Strong-Fielding  Paste-pot  Handicap  or  the 
Marvelous,  Merry  and  Mirthful  Maroon  Mar 
thon,  as  it  came  to  be  called  in  the  office. 


1 


Petey 's  mother  was  worried  at  her  son's 
wonted  industry  that  evening.  He  shut  him- 
self up  in  his  room  and  said  that  he  intended  to 
stay  there  until  he  had  finished  some  important 
business.  Mrs.  Strong  hoped  he  was  not  going 
into  one  of  those  awful  bilious  spells,  and  o 

272 


THE  GEEAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

dered  one  of  the  maids  to  take  him  some  hot 
chocolate  and  cake  and  part  of  the  lamb  roast 
at  ten  o'clock.  When  she  returned  from  the 
theater  and  found  him  still  writing  at  his  white- 
and-gold  desk,  with  the  banquet  devoured  in 
its  entirety,  she  sighed  and  kissed  him  good 
night,  and  said  perhaps  her  boy  was  growing 
up  and  putting  away  childish  things,  not  mean- 
ing the  hot  chocolate  and  cake. 

Petey  wrote  and  wrote — wrote  until  his 
fingers  cramped  and  the  pencil  refused  to 
be  pushed  any  farther,  and  he  felt  the  delicious 
sensation  of  wearing  himself  out  in  a  good 
cause.  He  wrote  a  long  article  on  ''The  First 
Day  at  the  University, ' '  which  he  regarded  as 
quite  original.  It  was  mostly  about  the  prep, 
school  he  came  from  and  the  boulevard  he  went 
through  on  his  way  to  the  campus  and  some 
dirty  children  who  were  playing  in  a  pile  of 
bright  autumn  leaves;  little  innocent  chil- 
dren gamboling  by  the  wayside,  he  said,  never 
thinking  that  some  day  they  would  go  to  college 
like  the  fellow  passing  there  on  the  sidewalk. 
He  also  wrote  a  page  of  jokes,  and  finished 
by  composing  several  editorials  about  college, 
in  which  he  freely  expressed  a  number  of  opin- 


273 


MAEOON  TALES 

ions  that  he  had  no  business  to  own.    And  h 
fell  asleep  in  his  big  colonial  bed  with  his  arm 
tossed  out  wearily  on  the  snowy  spread  and 
vague  feeling  that  he  was  taking  a  pretty  mean 
advantage  of  poor  Silver.    But  then,  Silver  was 
much  too  "cocky." 

He  bought  a  pocket  notebook  on  his  way  to 
his  eight-thirty.    It  was  a  fat,  friendly-looking 
notebook,  with  an  index,   and  he  thought  i 
would  be  quite  large  enough  to  contain  thou 
sands  of  ideas.    He  laid  his  stuff  on  the  new 
editor's  desk  and  hurried  out  of  the  office,  be 
cause  he  was  afraid  Chalmers  might  come  in 
and  he  could  n't  bear  to  be  complimented  before 
the  stenographer.    When  he  wandered  back  to 
get  his  assignments  at  ten-thirty,  Chalmers  tolc 
him  he  was  sorry,  but  it  was  not  exactly  the 
right  kind  of  copy.    In  fact,  none  of  it  could  be 
used.    The  Maroon  was  a  daily,  not  a  monthly 
nor  an  annual,  nor  yet  a  decennial  publication 
Chalmers   said  it  in  a  kind  way,  but  Petey 
was  glad  Silver  didn't  hear.     How  he  woulc 
have  crowed!     The  news  editor  did  not  tel 
him  that  Silver  had  just  passed  through  a  sim 
ilar  experience. 

Chalmers  called  the  hustlers    together    the 

274 


THE  GREAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

hour  before  dinner  and  gave  them  a  talk.  He 
said: 

"The  Mar oo7i  is  supposed  to  print  the  news 
about  the  University  and  about  the  persons  and 
things  intimately  associated  with  it.  It  is  in- 
tended to  be  interesting  and,  to  some  extent, 
dignified.  It  is  read  by  many  alumni  in  addi- 
tion to  the  students  now  in  residence,  and  we 
want  it  to  be  a  good,  clean  record  of  the  Uni- 
versity. "We  want  to  print  reports  of  all  official 
meetings — chapel  and  lectures  and  so  on — and 
the  news  of  the  various  clubs  and  organizations 
and  the  news  of  the  teams  in  season — football 
now,  of  course.  Stir  up  enthusiasm — be  boost- 
ers— but  not  editorialize  in  every  news  story. 
We  shall  try  to  do  that  in  the  columns  reserved 
for  that  purpose.  We  run  'josh'  stories  some- 
times, but  that  usually  takes  experience.  Don't 
try  to  be  too  funny.  Don't  write  things  that 
we  can  find  in  the  encyclopedia.  Be  accurate, 
and  if  you  don't  use  the  typewriter,  dot  your  i's 
and  cross  your  t's  and  stick  in  a  period  now 
and  then.  You  can  find  out  the  rest  by  reading 
the  rules  posted  over  there  by  the  desk. ' ' 

The  hustlers  understood  part  of  this,  and 
liked    it.    Even    Petey    and    Silver    promptly 

275 


MAROON  TALES 

forgave  Chalmers  for  killing  their  stuff,  be- 
cause his  manner  was  neither  arrogant  nor  con- 
descending. It  was  just  right,  they  thought 
They  were  glad  they  were  going  to  work  for 
him. 

For  Chalmers  was  a  good  news  editor.  He 
was  very  particular  what  went  into  the  paper, 
of  which  he  was  proud.  He  sat  up  many  nights 
talking  to  Hal  North  over  ways  to  make  it  bet 
ter.  He  thought  it  was  about  the  best  college 
daily  in  the  land. 

"Did  you  take  all  that  in,  Peter ?"  said  Sil- 
ver, as  they  left  the  office. 

"Yes,  did  you?" 

"Sure.     Have  anything  in  The  Maroon  to 
day?" 

' '  Oh,  no, ' '  wearily.    ' l  Did  you  ? ' ' 

"No — o,"  also  wearily;  "but  I  'm  going  to 
have  a  story  tomorrow." 

"So  am  I.    So  long,  Silver." 

These  boastful  declarations  were  the  veriest 
shams,  but  they  happened  to  come  true,  because 
they  were  founded  on  the  grim  determination 
of  two  wide-awake  freshmen,  aided  by  will- 
ing friends.  They  laid  their  troubles  before 
two  kind  upper-classmen,  and  these  accommo- 

276 


THE  GREAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

dating  persons  not  only  furnished  the  de- 
sired stories,  but  even  agreed  to  provide  un- 
limited additional  ones  on  demand — promises 
which  caused  Petey  and  Silver  to  have  visions 
of  easy  and  complete  success. 

Al  Taylor  was  the  author  of  Petey's  yarn. 
Al  affirmed  that  three  spies  had  been  discovered 
sneaking  a  view  of  secret  football  practise  from 
the  windows  of  Anatomy;  that  these  villains, 
who,  with  foolhardy  assurance,  wore  the  bright- 
hued  sweaters  of  a  rival  college,  had  been  caught 
red-handed  while  taking  voluminous  notes  on 
the  Old  Man's  formations,  and  after  confessing 
their  crime,  had  been  ducked  in  the  Botany  pond 
until  they  yelled  for  mercy.  A  party  of  loyal 
Chicago  men,  said  Al,  himself  among  the  num- 
ber, had  then  pointed  the  finger  of  scorn  at  the 
rascals  and  had  said  a  few  things  about  the 
miserable  hole  they  represented,  and  had 
told  them  to  return  whence  they  came  and  re- 
member the  time  they  had  and  much  good  might 
it  do  them. 

Silver's  story  came  from  Wally  Miles,  a 
junior  who  looked  responsible,  but  was  not. 
Miles  told  a  convulsing  yarn  of  a  monkey  that 
had  escaped  from  an  operating-table  in  one  of 

277 


MAROON   TALES 

the  laboratories,  knocked  a  bottle  of  ether  fro 
an  assistant's  hand,  jumped  through  a  window 
and  run  amuck  on  the  campus,  where  it  had  bi 
a  child  and  frightened  a  divinity  student  into 
spasms.  It  finally  had  been  captured  after  a 
wild  chase,  and  had  been  cut  into  small  slices 
by  the  infuriated  professors.  Miles  was  not 
certain  whether  the  carnage  occurred  on  the 
sidewalk  or  in  the  'lab' — he  thought  the  'lab. 

Chalmers  would  have  investigated  both  o 
these  narratives.     But   Chalmers  was   down 
town,     and     one     of     the     associate     editors 
sent  the   stories  to   press.    The  big  machine 
groaned  and  trembled  as  if  deeply  ashamed 
and  ground  out  the  edition.    Petey  and  Silver 
gleefully  snipped  their  articles  when  the  paper 
was    delivered    in    the   morning.    The    storie 
measured  five  inches  apiece.    That  was  pretty 
good  for  one  day. 

The  returns  began  to  come  in  before  noon 
The  rival  college  had  heard  the  spy  story,  anc 
the  rival  campus  was  shaken  with  indignation 
It  did  not  seem  to  please  anybody.  One  of  the 
reporters  asserted  that  he  had  seen  severa 
professors  turning  flip-flops  and  tearing  out 
their  whiskers,  which  probably  was  an  exag- 

278 


THE  GEEAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

geration.  Professor  Stupp  called  at  the  office. 
His  face  was  quite  red.  He  said  that  a  col- 
umn editorial,  containing  a  retraction  and  an 
apology,  must  be  printed  without  delay.  The  spy 
"fake,"  he  informed  Chalmers,  was  peculiarly 
distressing*  coming  just  when  the  intercollegi- 
ate situation — an  extremely  delicate  one — de- 
manded the  continuance  of  the  very  friendly  re- 
lations between  the  two  institutions.  To  be 
plain,  there  had  been  danger  of  a  break  for 
months.  The  reporter  who  was  culpable  should 
be  severely  reprimanded. 

Immediately  thereafter  came  another  faculty 
member,  requesting  instant  explanation  of  the 
ridiculous  monkey  article.  If  it  had  been  in- 
tended as  a  joke,  it  was  a  pitifully  feeble  at- 
tempt, said  he.  It  was  most  offensive  and — 
ahem — embarrassing  for  reasons  which  should 
be  apparent  to  the  most  unthinking.  Some 
one  with  a  rasping  voice  called  up  on  the 
telephone  and  said  that  he  was  an  anti-vivisec- 
tionist,  and  now  had  the  evidence  he  had 
long  desired  in  regard  to  the  unspeakably  bru- 
tal practises  of  college  professors.  He  had 
drawn  up  resolutions,  a  copy  of  which  would 
be    forwarded    to    a    certain    society    in    the 

279 


MAROON  TALES 

East,  and  there  was  no  telling  what  the  soci 
would  do.  But  it  was  probable,  and  the  raspin 
voice  rasped  more  slowly  that  the  words  migh 
sink  in — it  was  probable  that  it  also  woulc 
draw  up  resolutions. 

The  associate  editor  consigned  Strong  anc 
Fielding  to  a  disagreeable  place,  and  Chalm- 
ers did  as  much  for  the  associate  editor; 
Chalmers  had  been  talking  to  Al  Taylor  anc 
Wally  Miles,  who  said  the  freshmen  ought  to 
be  paddled,  and  would  be,  for  believing  such 
dizzy  stuff.    Petey  and  Silver  felt  hurt. 

"You   got    stung    pretty   fine,    didn't   you 
Peter  f"  grinned  Silver,   after  Chalmers  ha 
spoken  to  him. 

"So  did  you,  I  noticed." 

"It  won't  happen  again  very  soon." 

"Here  either.  I  intend  to  get  my  stories 
myself  after  this. p ' 

"Me  too.  You  can't  go  wrong  then 
There  's  a  fellow  I  want  to  see.    'By." 

The  boys  told  themselves  that  they  would  ac 
complish  something  at  once.  It  would  be  untrue 
to  say  that  they  failed  to  do  so.  They  enlivenec 
The  Maroon,  caused  a  number  of  people  to  fee 
excited,  and  increased  their  strings  to  the  length 

280 


hac 


THE  GEEAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

of  twenty-eight  inches  apiece  in  two  weeks.  As 
computed  by  Chalmers,  who  watched  the  meas- 
uring operations,  that  made  exactly  fifty-six 
inches  of  trouble.  The  office  couldn't  remember 
such  a  debauch  of  downright  silliness.  It  was 
a  crime,  said  Chalmers.  And  the  most  embar- 
rassing part  of  it,  according  to  the  news  ed- 
itor, was  the  fact  that  the  stuff  had  got  by  the 
desk. 

Petey  seemed  to  be  endowed  with  a  fatal 
genius  for  disseminating  misinformation  in 
attractively  veiled  form,  and  a  twin  gift  for 
seizing  upon  the  most  unfortunate  circum- 
stances that  came  his  way  in  his  daily  search 
for  news.  His  innocent  sincerity  served 
neither  to  guide  his  freshman  steps  aright,  nor 
to  abate  the  consequences  of  his  unwise 
ramblings. 

One  of  his  first  unassisted  feats  was  the  plac- 
ing before  his  fellow-students  of  a  condensed 
and  readable  version  of  a  very  exhaustive  and 
abstruse  paper  on  "The  Present  Intellectual 
Tendencies  of  Male  and  Female  Young  Per- 
sons,' '  which  he  found  in  a  pretty  tan  maga- 
zine. He  wrote,  in  his  front  page  review, 
that  the  young  women  of  the  University  had 

281 


MAEOON  TALES 

proved  so  deficient  in  scholarly  attainmen 
as  to  arouse  the  gravest  doubts  of  thei 
mental  capacity  and  the  "  wisdom  of  maintair 
ing  our  present  system. ' '  This  was  not  exactl 
what  the  author  meant.  It  brought  to  the  offic 
a  handful  of  small  notes,  tinted  and  otherwise 
which  were  not  invitations  to  the  Women' 
Halls.  One  of  the  notes  called  attention 
' *  this  latest  example  of  the  brain  power  of  t 
male."  Petey  was  sorry,  but  he  said  he  h 
his  opinion  of  anybody  that  would  get  up  such  ; 
bunch  of  " piffle' '  in  the  first  place. 

The  next  issue  contained  another  of  Petey' 
efforts,  ostensibly  based  upon  Professor  Sand' 
lecture  on  "An  Estimate  of  Pragmatism," 
subject  that  had  struck  the  news  editor  as  be 
ing  dismal  enough  to  tame  even  Petey,  at  leas 
devoid  of  pitfalls  for  the  wild  young  hustler 
Petey  was  not  in  touch  with  the  trend  of  moder 
philosophy,  and  he  sat  through  the  lectur 
with  an  expression  of  forlorn  bewildermen 
upon  his  face,  a  feeling  of  disgust  in  hi 
soul  and  nothing  but  fidgety  curlicues  on  th 
open  page  of  the  fat  notebook.  But  the  lecture 
made  some  remarks  that  sounded  intelligen 
just  as  he  was  leaving  the  room  with  a  worship 

282 


THE  GREAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

ing  graduate  student.  Petey  listened,  then 
scribbed  violently.  The  quote  made  most  of  the 
story.  Professor  Sand  was  horrified  to  read  his 
confidential  comments  set  forth  nakedly  in  The 
Maroon.  For  while  the  expressions,  "  childish 
folderol,"  "absurd  hypothesis,"  and  "flimsy 
pretext,"  had  seemed  to  the  copy-reader  to 
refer  to  some  notion  of  the  dim  past,  they 
were  leveled  at  the  pet  theory  of  one  of 
Professor  Sand's  colleagues,  whose  views  had 
been  published  the  day  before.  The  allusion 
was  obvious,  and  almost  everybody  was  start- 
led. Once  more  Petey  was  sorry.  Several 
achievements  of  like  magnitude  and  brilliancy 
came  from  his  pen  before  Chalmers  could 
bring  himself  to  decide  on  the  boy's  case. 

A  few  of  Petey's  mistakes  resulted  in  the  in- 
terchange of  irritating  personalities.  He  fea- 
tured the  captain  of  the  football  team  in  de- 
scribing a  "midnight  lark"  on  the  Midway,  and 
was  interviewed  by  that  worthy,  who  was  sup- 
posed to  be  in  bed  at  ten  every  night.  He 
printed  a  piece  of  news  about  the  fraternity  to 
which  he  was  pledged,  and  his  prospective 
brothers  made  it  plain  that  that  particular  bit 
of  information  should  not  have  been  made  pub- 

283 


MAROON  TALES 

lie.  He  omitted  the  name  of  a  freshman 
from  a  committee  list,  and  learned,  through  Si 
ver's  sister,  that  the  child  made  horrid  faces  £ 
him  whenever  she  saw  him.  But  he  did  n  't  min 
those  things.  He  supposed  he  would  have  t 
stand  it,  he  told  Miss  Fielding,  like  Patience  o 
a  tombstone  or  a  sofa  or  whatever  it  was  sh 
used  to  camp  on. 

Silver  seemed  possessed  with  an  evil  affinit; 
for  the  unpropitious  phrase.  His  faculty  fo 
dressing  up  half-truths  in  the  semblance  o 
verity  amounted  to  a  talent  comparable  only  t 
Petey's.  His  stories  too  had  the  property  o 
impressing  as  harmless — until  they  came  ou 
in  print.    They  looked  so  innocent  in  the  copy 

When  he  wrote,  naively,  that  a  visitin 
chapel  orator  "delivered  the  usual  address  o 
morality"  and  the  bungling  foreman  place 
above  it  the  head,  "Chestnuts!  Chestnuts! 
which  belonged  to  another  story  altogether,  th 
mistake  escaped  even  the  proof-reader,  wh 
was  sleepy;  clearly,  it  was  not  Silver's  faul 
When  he  informed  the  readers  of  The  Maroo 
that  one  of  the  deans  was  about  to  "take 
vacation  in  order  to  find  some  new  ideas,  as 
has  not  had  one  for  three  years,' '  Chalme 

284 


THE  GEEAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

scratched  his  head  reflectively  while  the  campus 
giggled  with  delight.  Silver  explained  that  he 
meant  the  vacations,  not  the  ideas;  and  then 
Chalmers  realized  that  the  boy  was  surely 
unique. 

The  whole  University  was  interested  in  the 
fact  that  The  Maroon  had  two  new  hustlers  who 
were  ' '  the  limit. ' '  They  were  pointed  out  on  the 
campus.  Instructors  would  ask  in  class,  "Mr. 
Strong,  have  you  got  this  straight  1 ' '  and  ' '  Mr. 
Fielding,  are  you  quite  certain  that  you  under- 
stand f "  Some  of  the  upper-classmen  held  that 
the  hustlers  might  be  wiser  than  they  looked. 
This  theory  the  sophomores  repudiated.  Clever 
freshman  humorists,  indeed!  The  members 
of  the  staff  began  to  bet  on  the  outcome  of  the 
Mirthful  and  Merry.  "It  's  a  toss  up,"  said 
the  staff.    Petey  and  Silver  were  famous. 

"Peter,  I  Ve  got  a  fine,  large  premonition," 
said  Silver,  the  day  the  strings  were 
measured. 

"What's  the  matter!" 

"Something,  my  lad,  is  about  to  drop  on 
you — hard." 

"Huh!   How  about  you! " 

285 


MAEOON   TALES 

"Oh,  I  don't  care  for  myself.    But  I  'd  ha 
to  see  you  lose  out.    You  want  to  beat  me  s 
awful  much." 

"Spare  the  tears,  Silver.' ' 

Silver  persisted.     It  was  evident  that  ] 
swagger  was  largely  assumed. 

"Say,  Peter,"  he  asked,  "do  you  really  thin 
we  're  in  bad?" 

"  I  do, "  answered  Petey. ' '  But  I  Ve  got  a  ne^v 
scheme  for  little  me.    I  'm  going  to  suppres 
all  the  wormy  talks,  no  matter  who  says  'em 
Too  dangerous." 

"That's  just  what  I  was  about  to  suggest,' 
said  Silver.    "So  long,  Peter." 

"So  long,  Silver." 

But  Chalmers  had  a  plan  of  his  own,  an( 
Chalmers  was  the  news   editor.     Said  he 
North,  who  had  curtly  stated  his  opinion: 

"Now  you  let  me  pace  this  pair  of  colts, 
think  I  know  them  better  than  you.  I  '11 
just  as  I  said,  and  if  they  can't  stand  it,  they  '1 
jump  the  track.  If  they  finish  at  all,  they  '1 
do  it  in  style  and  my  case  is  won.  Is  it  a  go 
All  right,  Hal." 

Petey  and  Silver  soon  became  aware  tha 
their  activities  were  being  restrained,  and  by 

286 


THE  GEEAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

determined  hand.  Chalmers  did  not  use  the 
stories  they  turned  in,  and  he  gave  them  but 
one  assignment  apiece  in  a  week.  Neither 
cared  to  humble  himself  before  the  other; 
so  they  wrote  letters  and  themes  and  make- 
believe  leads  at  the  reporters'  long  table  in 
the  effort  to  seem  decently  busy.  Petey  told 
Al  Taylor,  sadly,  that  it  certainly  looked  as  if 
he  were  blowing  up  at  the  turn. 

To  add  to  the  situation,  Silver  resorted  to  a 
shameless  bit  of  duplicity. 

"Let  's  see,  Silver/ '  Petey  said,  one  hope- 
lessly dull  day.  "We  had  twenty-eight  inches 
apiece  the  last  time,  didn't  we?  What  have 
you  got  now  1 ' ' 

"Oh,  about  so  much."  Silver's  gesture  im- 
plied an  infinity  of  string.  He  was  not  going 
to  be  caught  so  easily  as  that. 

"Guess  we  'd  better  measure  it." 

"No,  we  won't.  I  've  decided  to  keep  mine  to 
myself.  A  little  suspense,  you  know.  Keep 
you  anxious." 

Petey  was  skeptical.  "Show  me  some  of 
your  stuff,"  he  challenged. 

Silver  took  up  a  copy  of  The  Maroon  and 

287 


MAEOON   TALES 

dashed  a  pencil  across  the  six  longest  storie 

" Where  's    your    stuff    today,    Peter ?"    he 
asked. 

Petey  fell,  ingloriously.  He  promptly  pointec 
out  the  six  next  longest  stories. 

"That   one   and   that — and   that — and   tha 
one-— and   that — and   that,"   he   said,   jabbing 
holes  in  the  page  with  the  office  shears. 

This  ill-conceived  solace,  however,  proved  far 
too  hollow.     The  Olympic  strivers  became  al 
most  gloomy  by  reason  of  unwelcome  periods 
of  introspection,  an  act  which  is  by  no  means 
foreign  to  the  nature  of  freshmen.    The  intro 
spection  had  to  do  with  something  known  as 
"making  good."  The  worst  of  it  was  that  the 
were  held  in  check  just  when  they  saw  the  pat 
ahead  all  clear  and  smooth — just  when  the} 
could  have  done  so  well!    They  watched  th 
other  hustlers  with  jealous  eyes.    They  studiec 
the  make-up  of  the  paper  until  they  though 
they    could   tell   just   how   many   notes    the 
would  have  to  take  if  they  should  get  certain 
stories.    They  gazed  moodily  at  the  fellow  clip 
ping  paragraphs  from  the  college  exchange 
that  hung  all  along  one  side  of  the  office,  em 

288 


THE  GEEAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

paled  in  bulging,  crackling  bunches  on  huge 
hooks.  They  could  do  that.  And  they  were  not 
getting  a  chance! 

The  race  might  have  ended  right  there  if  the 
boys  had  possessed  a  different  internal  con- 
struction. But  there  was  nothing  very  wrong 
inside  of  Petey  and  Silver.  They  continued 
to  spend  two  hours  a  day  at  their  Maroon 
duties,  as  they  had  planned  the  day  they  en- 
tered college.  As  the  duties  were  fast  dwindling, 
they  took  to  exploring  the  odd  corners  of  the 
campus  in  the  hope  of  turning  up  some  big 
stories. 

Silver,  always  attracted  by  the  extraordi- 
nary, prowled  about  the  museums,  investigating 
the  wonders  exhibited  in  the  glass  cases  and  on 
the  walls.  In  Walker  he  liked  to  look  at  the 
brilliantly  colored  minerals  and  at  the  remains 
of  queer  animals :  funny  little  skulls  and  bones 
and  disjointed  skeletons  of  strange  monsters 
that  must  have  been  remarkable  when  they  were 
alive — Silver  wondered  if  the  long  one  with  the 
flat,  triangular  head  used  to  crawl,  or  hop,  or 
what.  And  in  Haskell  he  greatly  fancied  the 
perspectiveless  reliefs  of  kings  of  Egypt  going 
forth  behind  six-legged,   three-headed  hobby- 

289 


MAEOON   TALES 

horses  to  hunt  tame-looking  wild  beasts 
had  arrows  in  their  backs ;  and  the  personal  ef 
fects  of  the  princess  with  the  impossible  name 
He  wrote  Maroon  articles  about  some  of  these 
but  they  were  not  used. 

One  afternoon  Silver  met  Petey  loafing  h 
the  corridor  of  the  Tower  buildings,  and  to 
gether  they  stole  into  the  Commons  to  see  th< 
portraits.  They  knew  hardly  any  of  the  faces 
but  they  thought  them  all  very  interesting 
They  smiled  intimately  at  the  Founder,  sitting 
comfortably  in  his  big  chair — he  looked  quit 
kind  and  friendly  at  close  range.  And  then  for  c 
long  time  they  peered  up  at  the  face  of  the  On 
who  was  gone — the  friend  of  whom  the  fellow 
spoke  so  reverently  and  so  sadly.  And  the} 
too  felt  reverent  and  sad. 

They  would  admire  the  buildings  also.  Petej 
thought  Hull  Gate  was  about  the  best  thing 
on  the  campus,  because  of  the  gargoyles 
A  senior  told  him  that  the  little,  crawling  gar 
goyles  were  freshmen,  and  the  great,  fierce  one 
sophomores. 

Petey's   independent  quest  led  him  among 
the  professors.     The  stories  he  heard  abou 
them  were  most  exciting.     Some,  he  learned, 

290 


THE  GEEAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

had  been  almost  everywhere  and  had  seen  un- 
believably strange  people  in  unbelievably 
strange  places  and  were  unbelievably  modest 
about  it,  and  some  were  making  creepy  experi- 
ments in  the  medical  buildings.  Others,  he 
heard,  were  helping  the  city  of  Chicago  take 
care  of  its  problems,  and  some  were  spending 
years  on  the  queerest  problems  imaginable. 
Most  of  them  seemed  to  be  doing  things  that 
made  their  teaching  in  class  look  small  and  un- 
important in  comparison.  And  these  things, 
the  fellows  said,  were  what  made  the  University 
really  great. 

Petey  thought  he  ought  to  write  about  these 
wonderful  men,  so  he  called  on  some  of  them. 
When  he  said  he  was  from  The  Maroon,  he  was 
usually  treated  politely  and  told  that  there 
was  "  nothing  in  shape  for  publication  just 
now."  Although  the  professors  were  busy,  they 
allowed  him  to  ask  questions,  wondering 
how  long  he  would  retain  his  unnatural  thirst 
for  information. 

Occasionally  he  found  out  things  that  were 
not  to  be  printed,  as  the  day  Leeming  let  him 
help  with  the  football  story,  and  Williams,  the 
assistant  coach,   told  him  confidentially  what 

291 


MAROON   TALES 

the  real  line-up  would  be,  explaining  qui 
patiently  that  it  was  not  always  best  to  let  the 
other  team  know  too  much.  That  was  the  time 
Williams  introduced  him  to  the  Old  Man. 

And  one  day  he  met  the  President!  He 
begged  the  favor  of  accompanying  one  of  the 
reporters,  who  had  an  important  question  to 
ask,  and  who  said  to  come  along  and  not  to  act 
like  a  kid.  He  approached  the  inner  office  with 
pleasant  shivers  of  awe ;  and  when  the  door  was 
opened,  there  sat  the  President  writing  at  his 
desk.  And  then  he  looked  up  and  smiled  and 
told  the  boys  to  sit  down,  and  asked  Petey  if 
he  was  a  freshman,  and  how  he  was  get- 
ting along.  That  was  very  kind  of  him,  Petey 
thought.  He  would,  at  that  moment,  have 
leaped  from  the  highest  peak  of  Mitchell  Tower, 
if  the  President  had  wished  it.  He  could 
appreciate  then  what  Bugs  Landon  had  told 
him  how  at  one  of  the  Proms,  the  President 
had  stood  on  the  running-track  of  the  Gym.  and 
made  a  little  talk,  and  how  everybody  crowded 
up  close,  and  looked  and  listened  and  felt  fine, 
and  how  they  all  clapped  their  hands  so  loud 
and  shouted,  "Prexy!  Prexy!  Prexy!"  He 
liked  to  think  of  that. 

292 


THE  GREAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

All  this  was  quite  agreeable,  in  one  way. 
But  the  boys  were  not  happy.  Each  string, 
soiled  and  crumpled  from  much  inspection,  now 
measured  only  thirty-two  inches.  It  seemed  as 
if  Chalmers  had  him  doling  out  the  punishment 
with  mathematical  precision,  which  happened 
to  be  true.  How  were  they  to  know  that  the  news 
editor  disliked  to  throw  their  stories  in  the 
waste-basket,  and  that  he  had  observed  their 
earnest  efforts  with  a  twinkling  eye?  The  Quar- 
ter was  going  fast,  too.  North  Had  posted  a  bul- 
letin calling  the  board  to  a  meeting,  which  was 
to  be  held  earlier  than  usual.  And  they  elected 
the  reporters  at  the  board  meeting ! 

It  is  said  that  the  deadliest  enemies  have  been 
known  to  grow  sympathetic  in  the  presence  of 
great  calamities.  Petey  and  Silver  had  reached 
that  stage. 

1 '  Peter,  do  you  know  what  they  call  us  ? ' '  said 
Silver,  getting  into  his  clothes  after  Gym.  class 
one  day. 

"Who  callus!" 

"The  staff — The  Maroon — everybody." 

"What  do  they  call  us?" 

Silver  looked  serious.  "They  call  us  the 
Mirthful,  Merry,  Marathon  Martyrs  and  a  lot 

293 


MAROON    TALES 

of  other  nutty  names.  Our  race  for  space,  of 
course.    It  Js  all  over  the  campus/ ' 

"What  of  it?"  and  Petey  tried  to  look  bored. 

"What  of  it?  Nothing.  Nothing  at  all.  Only 
we  seem  to  be  about  the  best  jokes  going.  And 
if  we  get  stung  in  the  elections,  we  '11  continue 
to  be  jokes.  I  thought  you  might  be  interested. ' ' 
Tragically:  "Peter,  those  fool  names  '11  stick 
to  us  if  we  go  down.  We  '11  be  labeled  the 
Mud  Horses  of  the  Universe  or  the  Literary 
Lambs  or  the  Devilish  Dubbs  or  something. ' ' 

"We  'd  better  sprint/ '  suggested  Petey, 
cheerfully. 

"Good  Lord,  I  have  sprinted.  So  have  you. 
We  're  bushed.  Blankety-blank-blank-blank ! 
Something,  my  boy,  has  got  to  happen !" 

"Blankety-blank-blank-blank!  You  're  right, 
Silver.  Something  has  got  to  happen — quick. 
Mighty  quick !" 

An  amusing  thought  occurred  to  Petey.  He 
looked  searchingly  in  the  direction  of  Silver's 
nose,  a  performance  which  was  ever  displeas- 
ing to  young  Mr.  Fielding. 

"Of  course,"  he  said,  "you  are  not  by  any 
chance — by  any  chance  it  cannot  be,  that  you 

294 


THE  GREAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

are  pulling  in  your  horns  V9  And  lie  twirled 
his  cap. 

Silver    slammed    the    door  of    his    locker. 

"  Peter — "   he    said,    "  Peter,  my   boy — don't 
make  me  laugh. 9  9 

Suddenly  emerged  from  the  gray  background 
of  the  waning  Quarter  the  unimpressive  figure 
of  Professor  Bland  of  the  Graduate  Faculties, 
fated  to  be  for  a  brief  space  the  agent  of  the 
destinies  of  Petey  Strong  and  Silver  Fielding. 
For  the  next  day,  it  being  then  high  time  in  the 
routine  of  covering  the  campus  to  "  check 
up"  on  Professor  Bland's  department,  Chal- 
mers sent  Petey  to  see  him.  Petey  went,  his 
heart  filled  with  gratitude  for  this  crumb  from 
the  reportorial  feast.    Said  the  professor : 

"I  was  agreeably  surprised  to  note  the 
eminently  sane  article  you  wrote  some  time  ago 
concerning  the  work  of  this  department.  The 
account  was  commendably  conservative,  and 
contained  none  of  the  too  frequent  glaring 
errors  either  of  content  or  of  construction  and 
diction — no  garbling  of  facts.' ' 

This  was  the  handsomest  compliment  Petey 
had  received. 

295 


MAEOON  TALES 


"I  may  say  further,  young  man,  that  while 
there  is  nothing  in  shape  for  your  paper  today, 
I  have  decided  to  give  you  an  item  of — of  con- 
siderable moment,' '  continued  Professor  Bland. 
"No  doubt  you  wish  to  know  what  it  concerns. 
That,  however,  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  divulge 
at  present,  further  than  to  state  that  it  has  to 
do  with — er — a  gift  to  the  University,  which 
in  accordance  with  custom  and — er — tradition, 
may  not  be  made  public  until  it  has  been  of- 
ficially passed  upon.  I  shall  apprise  you  of 
the  fact  as  soon  as  it  becomes  my  privilege  to 
make  a  full  report.  Where  can  you  be  reached 
young  man?" 

"At  The  Maroon  office,"  said  Petey.  "And 
I  thank  you  very  much  indeed. ' '  He  pulled  out 
a  visiting-card  and  handed  it  to  the  professor, 
who  dropped  it  into  his  pocket.  He  walked  out 
with  a  new  light  in  his  eye. 

A  few  minutes  later,  Leeming,  the  athleti 
editor,   gave   an   assignment   to    Silver.     The 
order    was    to    see    Professor    Bland.     Chal 
mers  had  neglected  to  check  the  assignment  be- 
fore leaving  the  office. 

Said  Professor  Bland,  glancing  away  from 
his  writing,  and  back  again : 


THE  GREAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

1  i  Dear  me,  I  thought  I  made  myself  clear.  I 
was  under  the  impression  that  I  promised  to 
inform  you  as  soon  as  the  gift  was  officially 
accepted.  Be  assured,  young  man,  that  I  shall 
do  so."  He  mechanically  took  the  card  Silver 
offered  him  and  as  mechanically  stuffed  it  into 
his  pocket  with  Petey 's.  Silver  was  too  excited 
to  consider  Professor  Bland's  words.  Besides, 
he  understood  that  the  professor  was  eccentric. 

The  hustlers  reveled  in  anticipation  that 
night  when  they  heard  how  important  their  tips 
were. 

"Petey,  you  're  the  coming  little  literary 
light,"  said  Al  Taylor.  "A  story  from  Bland! 
Fellows,  Professor  Bland  has  promised  our 
Petey  a  scoop." 

The  fellows  laughed.  Taylor  explained 
more  fully: 

"It  's  absolutely  inhuman,  the  way  you  're 
going  to  put  that  Fielding  boy  out  of 
commission — flat  on  his  back.  Petey,  Profes- 
sor Bland  is  a  regular  pandemonium  of  loud 
sounds.  And  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that 
you  're  a  very  lucky  child.  Shake,  Strong, 
shake.    You  have  Sylvester  lashed  to  the  mast. ' ' 

297 


:aroon  tales 

Across  the  campus,  Wally  Miles  was  re- 
marking to  a  tall,  pug-nosed  youth : 

"If  you  don't  land  the  entire  front  page  and 
spill  over  on  the  second,  you  're  a  feather- 
weight, Silver,  a  bantam,  and  no  mistake. 
What  a  whale  of  a  yarn.  I  mean  your  yarn, 
not  mine.,, 

Which  impelled  Silver  to  stick  out  his  lower 
lip,  disparagingly — "like  papa,"  the  fellows 
described  it. 

Perhaps  the  boys  may  be  pardoned  for  the 
thoughts  that  surged  within  them  as  they  went 
to  their  eight-thirties  next  morning.  For,  as 
Professor  Bland  himself  might  have  said,  who 
indeed  can  hear,  unmoved,  the  glorious, 
rustling  wings  of  onrushing  Victory!  who 
contemplate  with  calm,  cold  eye  the  enemy's 
swift  rout? 

Silver  sat  in  The  Maroon  office  after 
luncheon,  swinging  his  legs  and  gazing  out 
mournfully  at  the  unfriendly  elements.  It 
was  trying  to  snow  and  rain  and  blow  a 
blizzard  all  at  once.  The  telephone  bell  rang. 
Some  one  wanted  Mr.  Fielding. 

"Mr.  Fielding ?"  said  the  voice.  "Ah!  This 
is  Mr.  Bland.    I  am  now  permitted  to  release 

298 


THE  GBEAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

the  item  of  which  I  told  you  yesterday.  You 
may  see  me  at  my  home  if  you  so  desire/ ' 

1 i  Thank  you,  I  '11  come. ' '  Silver  smiled  and 
bowed  to  the  transmitter.  He  turned  to 
Chalmers. 

"Chalmers,  I  've  got  a  big  story  from  Pro- 
fessor Bland/ '  he  exclaimed.  "  Better  hold  a 
column  for  me."  That  was  the  way  Leeming 
would  have  said  it. 

Petey  rushed  in  just  as  Silver,  leering  trium- 
phantly, dashed  out.  Petey  knew  that  leer  and 
suspected  it.  Maybe  he  could  do  a  thing  or 
two  himself!  He  went  to  the  telephone  and 
called  Professor  Bland's  office.  No  one  an- 
swered.    He  called  Professor  Bland's  house. 

"Maroon?"  came  the  professor's  voice.  "I 
thought  I  requested  you  to  see  me  at  my  home. 
Possibly  the  connection  was  poor.  Yes,  at 
once,  if  you  find  it  convenient. ' ' 

"I  wonder  if  he  means  Silver,"  thought 
Petey.    To  Chalmers  he  said: 

nI  've  got  a  whopper  of  a  story,  I  think — 
Professor  Bland,"  and  ran  out  into  the  storm. 

"Let  them  alone,  Hal,"  said  the  news  editor. 
"It 's  cruel,  but  you  wanted  to  see." 

Wet  but  cheerful,  Petey  and  Silver  hastened 

299 


MAEOON  TALES 

forth  by  converging  routes  that  brought  then 
into  unexpected  contact  at  a  corner  near  th 
professor's  house.  The  same  thought  flash 
over  both. 

"Hello!"  said  Petey. 

"Hello!"  said  Silver. 

"Where  you  going?" 

"I'm  taking  a  walk." 

"Where  to?" 

1 '  No  place.    I  'm  a  back-to-nature  fiend. ' 

They  stopped  before  Professor  Bland's  door 

"Well!"  said  Petey. 

"Well!" 

"I  want  to  speak  to  Professor  Bland- 
alone.  ' ' 

"So  do  I."  Silver's  surprise  was  turning 
to  wrath.  "Say,  what  are  you  after,  anyway 
I  'd  like  to  know?" 

"Don't  try  that  now,  Silver.  It  's  too  thin 
You  're  after  my  story. ' '    Petey  too  was  angr} 

"What!"  Silver  was  astonished  at  th 
cleverness  of  this  bold  trick. 

Petey  grew  more  indignant  with  the  sec 
onds.  "I  don't  know  how  you  worked  it,"  h 
said;  "but  you  're  certainly  pretty  smooth— 
pret — tee  smooth." 

300 


THE  GEEAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

"Don't  flatter  me  so,"  returned  Silver, 
darting  deadly  glances.  "I  take  off  my  hat  to 
you,  Peter.  You  'd  make  a  professional  crook 
look  sick." 

1  'Fielding !" 

"  Strong !" 

The  sleety  rain  was  chilling  them  through. 
They  rang  the  bell.  Professor  Bland  answered 
the  door. 

"It  is  rather  disagreeable  out,  is  it  not?" 
he  said  in  greeting. 

"I  am  from  The  Maroon/'  Petey  answered 
intelligently. 

"The  Maroon,"  echoed  Silver. 

"Ah!"  The  professor  smiled.  "Which  is 
Mr.  Fielding  ?" 

Petey  was  astounded.  "I  think  you  promised 
me  an  interview,"  he  said.  "My  name  is 
Strong. " 

Silver  "ahemmed"  mockingly. 

"I  am,"  said  he,  disregarding  the  interrup- 
tion. 

"Dear  me,  gentlemen,"  purred  Professor 
Bland.  "It  is  of  no  consequence  to  me  which 
one  gets  it.  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  wait 
in  the  library?    I  have  not  finished." 

301 


MAROON  TALES 

He  hastily  led  the  way  to  the  library  an 
placed    two    straight-backed    chairs    upon 
spongy-looking  yellow  rng. 

"  Kindly  sit  here,  gentlemen, ' '  he  said 
is  very  wet  outside,  is  it  not  ? ' J 

He  shuffled  out  of  the  room.    In  a  monie 
the  click  of  a  typewriter  reached  the  wrathf 
hustlers,  condemned  by  reason  of  their  super 
latively  moist  condition  to  sit  unpleasantly  close 
their  chairs  almost  touching,  for  any  attemp 
to  move  about  would  be  registered  in  tattlin 
rivulets  on  the  floor.    Neither  boy  spoke.    Th 
long  finger  of  the  library  clock  moved  slow! 
forward — made   a   complete   revolution.     Th 
click-clack  continued,  insistent  and  intermina 
ble.    The  yellow  rug  was  soaking  through 

"Ah!" 

The  professor  glided  into  the  library,  tw 
large  envelopes  in  one  hand,  two  white  visitin 
cards  in  the  other. 

* '  I  find  two  cards  in  my  desk, ' '  he  said.  ' '  Mr 
Peter  William  Strong  and  Mr.  Sylvester  Henr 
Fielding." 

Petey  and  Silver  glanced  at  each  other 
some    embarrassment.      They   felt   conflictin 
emotions. 

302 


THE  GREAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

' '  Perhaps, ' '  Professor  Bland  went  on, ' '  under 
the  circumstances,  I  should  present  each  with  a 
copy.  You  will  find  the  information  quite  com- 
plete/J  He  gave  Petey  one  of  the  envelopes, 
handing  the  other  to  Silver.  *  '  This  way,  gentle- 
men. I  hope  I  have  not  kept  you  waiting. 
Good  day,  gentlemen." 

Once  more  exposed  to  the  weather,  Petey 
and  Silver  halted,  quaking,  under  the  shelter 
of  a  bare-branched  oak.  Ordinarily  they  would 
have  apologized.  But  this  did  not  seem  neces- 
sary. 

"Well,  Silver ?"  said  Petey. 

"Well,  Peter ?" 

1 '  We  seem  to  be  on  the  home  stretch. ' ' 

"Home  stretch  it  is." 

"Everything  fair  and  square ?" 

"Fair  and  square  it  is." 

"What  '11  we  do?" 

"There's  one  way " 

"What  's  that?" 

"Race  for  it." 

"Race  is  good." 

"Ready?" 

"Ready." 

Professor  Bland's  house  was  more  than  a 

303 


;' 


MAROON 

mile  from  the  campus.  All  roads  to  the  Cit; 
Gray  were  hostile.  The  footing  could  not  have 
been  worse.  The  sidewalks  were  polished 
glass,  the  parkings,  treacherous,  rolling  slides 
of  ice,  the  streets  mushy  puddings  of  slush  that 
had  once  been  honest  mud.  The  cold  rain  beat 
upon  the  ground,  splashing  impudently.  Every- 
thing favored  an  eventful  race. 

It  was  a  spectacle.  Side  by  side  ran  Petey 
and  Silver,  ran  and  slipped  and  skidded  an 
stumbled,  bending  sidewise  and  back  at  the  cal 
of  muscle-straining  wrenches,  arms  flopping 
wildly,  first  one  and  then  the  other  spurting 
ahead  and  paying  for  it  each  time  with  periods 
of  slower  stumbling  that  brought  him  once 
more  even  with  the  enemy.  Always  side  by 
side,  sometimes  in  stride,  no  words  but  im- 
precations tossed  back  by  the  storm,  on  they 
tore. 

At  last  the  campus.     Blowing  like  Strang 
sea-animals,   hats   flopping   against   streaming 
faces,  drenched  coats  winding  round  drenchec 
trousers,  they  started  the  final  sprint. 

Silver  was  never  sure  how  it  happened. 
The  only  certainty  was  that  it  did  happen. 
Pumping   along  between   Eyerson   and   Kent, 

304 


THE  GEEAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

Silver's  legs  did  a  queer  thing.  They  flew 
forward  and  upward  very  rapidly.  Silver's 
body  described  a  graceful  arc,  as  a  comet 
shooting  earthward.  Silver  alighted  with  much 
force.  His  most  vivid  sensation  was  of  his 
spine  being  driven  into  and  through  his  skull. 
He  continued  to  sit,  one  leg  doubled  foolishly 
under  him. 

Petey  bent  over  the  fallen  athlete,  asking 
if  it  hurt.  Silver  rolled  his  head  in  agonized 
negation,  but  allowed  himself  to  be  pulled  to 
his  feet.  He  could  n  't  run.  He  could  n  't  walk. 
He  could  only  hop. 

The  finish  was  weird.  Petey  supported  the 
cripple,  an  arm  about  his  waist;  Silver 
hopped  bravely  and  painfully.  And  they  for- 
got that  the  race  was  over.  They  hurried  on. 
Now  they  were  almost  there.  Silver  hopped 
desperately.  Only  a  rod  more — only  a  yard 

Petey  banged  heavily  into  the  door  of  The 
Maroon  office,  and  pushed  it  open.  He  dragged 
his  rival  straight  to  the  news  editor's  desk, 
pulled  out  Silver's  envelope,  then  his  own,  and 
slapped  them  down  on  the  news  editor's  blot- 
ting-pad. Silver  sagged  heavily,  pulled  loose, 
and  dropped  to  the  floor. 

305 


MAEOON  TALES 

Petey  turned  swiftly.  And  there,  around  th 
long  table,  as  if  petrified,  sat  the  entire  boar< 
of  editors,  staring  at  him  in  silent  amazement 
He  sat  down  in  Eoberts  swivel-chair  and  lookec 
at  the  pools  of  water  flowing  from  his  clothes 
chasing  each  other  across  the  room,  meeting 
and  parting  in  strange  patterns;  then  down  a 
the  soggy  bunch  of  wet  overcoat  which  wa 
Silver. 

"The    meeting     stands     adjourned/ ' 
North,  the  managing  editor. 

Then  came  a  confusion  of  sounds — exclama 
tions,  questions,  laughter,  girls'  voices. 

Petey  took  off  his  hat.    He  sat  there,  pan 
ing  and  alone,  while  gentle  hands  cared  fo 
the  wearied  Silver.    A  great  deal  of  talk  anc 
fuss  was  going  on — all  for  Silver. 

"Is  he  hurt?" 

"Are  you  hurt,  Fielding ?" 

"Just  your  knee?" 

"That's  good." 

"Yes,  lift  him  up." 

"On  the  table." 

* '  Easy  now.    Heave  him. ' ' 

"All  right  now?" 

"He  's  a  regular  cloudburst." 


306 


THE  GREAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

" Strike  up  the  band." 

Now  the  crowd  surged  around  the  swivel- 
chair. 

"What 's  all  this  about,  anyway !"  Chalmers 
asked. 

"The  story,"  gasped  Petey. 

' '  The  sto — ory, '  *  piped  Silver,  from  his  posi- 
tion in  the  rear. 

"In  the  envelope,"  Petey  murmured. 

"In  the  envelope,"  shrilled  Silver. 

Chalmers  ripped  open  one  of  the  damp 
packets,  extracted  the  bulky  contents,  glanced 
over  the  opening  paragraphs.  Petey  watched. 
Robert's  face  was  expressionless  as  he  handed 
the  story  to  North.  North's  mouth  moved 
slightly.  He  passed  the  copy  to  Katherine 
Snowden. 

"Read  it,"  he  said.  "The  board  ought  to 
hear  it.    It  's  the  only  one  of  its  kind." 

Miss  Snowden  began  to  read  from  the  closely 
written  pages.    It  was  like  this : 

"  '  Professor  Bland,  in  an  interview  with  a 
representative  of  this  journal  recently  made 
public  the  gift  to  the  University  of  a  unique 
and  valuable  collection  of  monographs  on  the 
fossils  of' — why,  I  know  about  fossils — 'Op- 

307 


MAROON  TALES 

hiderpeton,  Dolichosoma,  Molgophis,  Ptyonius 
— I  can  do  it  even  faster — 'Hylonomidae,  Tudi 
tanidae,  Stegocepllala, — lucky  I  took  thai 
course — page  eight — 'its  vertebrae  are  phyl 
lospondylous' — poor  thing! — and  this  one  hac 
'a  jugal  canal  on  the  supratemporaP —  nc 
wonder  it  ossified — here  's  a  picture  of  a  starv- 
ing tadpole — how  it  reminds  me  of  the  Dicerato- 
saurus  robustus — page  thirteen — listen,  Mar- 
gery— 'the  squamosal  of '  " 

Miss  Snowden  stopped,  exhausted.  "  Shall 
I  continue V  she  asked.  "There  are  fifteen 
more  pages." 

"No,  thanks,"  said  Chalmers.  "We  can  guess 
the  rest.  It  will  do  for  a  note  next  week.  One 
of  the  new  reporters  can  fix  it  up." 

One  of  the  new  reporters!  Petey's  heart 
sank.  He  stole  a  glance  at  Silver,  who  had 
hopped  into  the  foreground.  Silver  looked  sad. 
It  may  have  been  the  knee. 

"This  is  the  worst  I  ever  saw,"  said  th 
news  editor,  severely.     "Which  of  you  owns 
this  thing!" 

The  story  went  unclaimed.  The  envelopes 
could  not  be  identified. 

308 


THE  GREAT  PASTE-POT  HANDICAP 

"We  '11  have  a  look  at  those  strings  now," 
said  Chalmers.    "Produce  'em." 

He  stretched  the  dirty,  wet  strings  side  by 
side  on  the  desk,  then  crumpled  them  into  small 
wads  and  flicked  them  away. 

"Exactly  even,"  he  announced.  "Dead 
heat.  Broke  the  tape  the  same  identical  frac- 
tion." 

Silver  wondered  whether  it  would  be  Mud 
Horse  or  Devilish  Dubb.  Petey  fumbled  with 
his  cap,  and  arose. 

"Well,  Chalmers,"  he  said,  "I  sort  of 
thought  I  had  landed  something  this  time.  I  'm 
sorry.    So  long." 

"Don't  hurry,"  said  Chalmers,  cordially. 
"Stick  around.  I  want  you  to  carry  an  edito- 
rial down  to  the  press  for  me.  You  can  take 
your  last  squint  at  the  office,  too." 

The  news  editor  picked  up  a  sheet  of  paper, 
referred  to  the  secretary's  minutes,  and  wrote 
for  a  minute  while  the  board  chattered.  He 
gave  the  copy  to  Petey. 

"You  may  look  at  it  if  you  wish,  Strong," 
he  said. 

Petey  turned  misty  eyes  upon  the  page.  The 
editorial  began: 

309 


MAROON  TALES 


"The  Maroon  takes  pleasure  in  informing 
its  readers  that  the  following  have  been  elected 
to  the  reportorial  positions — M 

After  that  came  some  names.  The  first  two 
were  startlingly  familiar.  Petey  read  them 
over  and  over,  to  make  sure.  Then  he  reached 
out  an  arm  and  pulled  Silver  into  his  lap, 
flapping  the  paper  before  his  eyes. 

While  they  were  recovering,  Chalmers  made 
a  speech. 

"Step  up,  folks,"  he  said.  "Step  up  and 
look.    It 's  twins." 

One  of  the  associate  editors  whooped. 

The  newest  reporters  grinned  sheepishly. 

"How  's  your  knee,  Silver?"  inquired  Petey. 


310 


HONORS   IN   DIPLOMACY 


MANY  seniors  keep  up  a  splendid  interest  in 
their  studies  during  the  Spring  Quarter, 
even  to  cutting  dances  and  meetings  of  the 
printing  committee.  And  these  are  the  wise. 
Foolish  indeed  are  those  who  sit  in  the  back 
row  and  match  pennies;  but  occasionally  they 
reform,  for  reasons  more  or  less  urgent.  Bob 
Forrest,  now,  cultivated  printed  books  and 
messy  notes  in  the  last  days  because  he  had 
wagered  twenty  dollars  on  his  chances  of  get- 
ting a  diploma.  He  said  he  would  buy  some- 
thing useful  with  his  winnings — a  pipe-rack, 
maybe,  or  a  new  collar  for  the  Zeta  dog. 

Curtis,  who  lived  across  the  hall  in  Hitch- 
cock, delivered  the  Recorder's  note  as  For- 
rest and  Norry  Norton  were  talking  senior 
politics  in  Bob's  room.  Forrest  thought  it 
looked  like  a  chapel  deficiency,  but  it  was  worse 
than  that.  It  informed  him,  in  the  subtly  ironical , 
heart-chilling  phraseology  known  only  to  the 
faculty,  that  special  examinations  would  be  re- 

311 


MAEOON  TALES 

quired  in  two  of  his  courses.  Whereupon  Noi 
ton  fixed  the  bet  at  even  money,  and  Curtis  lei 
awkwardly,  observing  in  a  matter-of-fact  ton 
that  it  was  hard  luck  and  that  he  was  "in  th 
same  hole."  Forrest  suggested  pitch,  smilini 
cooly  at  Norry's  unsympathetic  comments,  am 
silently  cursing  minutely  and  vigorously  eacl 
syllable  of  the  Recorder's  communication. 

When  a  chronic  loafer  is  held  for  senio] 
' '  exams, ' '  there  *s  not  much  hope  for  him.  Nor 
ton  dwelt  on  this  point  with  glee,  and  revealec 
his  plans  for  spending  the  twenty.  He  woulc 
give  a  feed,  he  said,  and  Forrest  himself, 
half -mourning,  should  be  toast-master.  He  w 
undecided  whether  to  order  course  by  course  01 
leave  the  whole  thing  to  the  head-waiter. 

For  Norry  was  convinced  that  his  money  wa 
safe.     It  was  well  known  that   Forrest   hac 
reached  his  final  year  with  less  learning  than 
any  other  senior  since  colleges  began;  and  tha 
his  last  Quarter  had  been  his  masterpiece  o 
scholastic    vagrancy.     As    the    University    of 
Chicago  does  not  exist  for  such  as  he,  no  futur 
senior  can  possibly  be  so  worthless — a  cheerin 
or  depressing  thought,  according  to  the  poin 
of  view. 

312 


:i 


HONORS   IN   DIPLOMACY 

Of  course,  Forrest  did  the  unexpected.  Even 
Norry  would  not  have  supposed  that  he  would 
slip  from  his  room,  interview  two  professors, 
and  heed  their  words.  The  professors,  who 
were  preparing  for  vacations  abroad,  were  in- 
clined to  be  facetious.  One  of  them  said  he  was 
delighted  to  meet  Mr.  Forrest,  a  pleasure  that 
had  been  denied  him  in  the  classroom.  The 
other,  leering  horribly,  said  he  often  feared 
that  young  men  lacked  imagination.  They 
agreed,  with  unconcealed  satisfaction,  that  the 
specials  would  be  rather  difficult. 

And  while  he  was  digesting  this  news  and  a 
late  luncheon,  he  called  on  Curtis,  whom  he 
hardly  knew.  They  considered  the  situation 
with  great  frankness,  though  Forrest  felt  that 
he  was  probably  making  a  pathetic  fool  of 
himself. 

"The  trouble  with  me  is,  I  have  n't  any  back- 
bone,'J  Bob  said,  as  he  lounged,  in  truly  inver- 
tebrate fashion,  in  Curtis 's  largest  chair.  "All 
I  want  is  moral  support — I  don't  like  tutors. 
It's  mighty  lucky  we  're  down  in  the  same 
courses,  because  I  specially  wnnt  that  diploma. 
If  I  fail  to  pry  that  twenty  out  of  Norry  Norton, 
I  '11  consider  my  education  a  terrific  fizzle." 

313 


MAEOON  TALES 


. 


"I  don't  suppose  you  're  doing  it  just  for  th< 
bet,  are  you?"  asked  Curtis.  "You  mus< 
have  other  reasons.' ' 

"I  may  have,  but  I  can't  stop  to  think  their 
up  now,  because  I've  got  to  go  to  a  dinner- 
dance  in  the  country,  and  I  have  to  dress,"  and 
Forrest  ran  a  disapproving  eye  over  his  fault- 
lessly clothed  person.  "But  really,  Curtis,  I 
did  not  expect  to  be  stuck  for  the  finals. ' ' 

"I  knew  I  was  down,"  said  Curtis.  "Yo 
can't  be  a  captain  of  industry  and  the  big 
squeeze  in  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  at  one  and  the 
same  time.  You  know  how  it  goes  to  work  your 
way." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  sympathized  Bob,  who  hac 
not  the  slightest  notion,  except  that  a  gooc 
many  fellows  were  said  to  earn  their  educatio 
by  doing  some  sort  of  stunts.  He  suppose 
they  had  to  go  slow  on  cabs  and  things  unt 
pay-day.  As  one  of  his  friends  put  it,  Forres 
had  thoughtlessly  allowed  himself  to  be  th 
only  son  of  wealthy  and  loving  parents,  an 
had  tried  to  make  amends  by  insisting  on  a  thic 
skull,  which  kept  him  from  realizing  his  oppor 
tunities. 


314 


HONOES   IN   DIPLOMACY 

"Well,  it 's  Monday  now,  and  the  *  exams' 
come  on  Friday,"  Curtis  figured  briskly. 
"They  '11  be  three  hours  long.  The  Poly  Con 
is  five  pounds  of  small  print  and  the  Sociology 
is  the  same,  if  not  more  so." 

"That  's  easy,"  said  Bob,  encouragingly. 
"No  trouble  at  all.  I  'd  start  this  afternoon  if  it 
weren't  for  the  party  this  evening.  Tomorrow 
I  have  some  golf  finals  that  can't  be  passed  up. 
I  '11  appear  at  seven  tomorrow  night  for  the 
getaway.    See  you  then. ' ' 

He  felt  quite  pleased  with  the  arrangement 
as  he  dressed  for  the  dinner-dance,  but  he  soon 
forgot  it  because  there  was  nobody  about  to 
discuss  it  with.  His  room  was  usually  occupied 
by  a  small  crowd  of  his  friends,  who  explained 
that  they  liked  to  use  his  excellent  tobacco  and 
scarf-pins.  If  he  happened  to  be  dressing, 
they  made  remarks  about  golden-haired  mat- 
inee idols  and  clothing  advertisements  and 
esthetics.  They  said  it  was  a  shame  he  was 
not  Head  Marshal,  he  was  so  decorative;  and 
he  looked  so  well  in  a  track  suit  that  they 
urged  him  to  make  another  try  for  the  team. 
Forrest  preferred  the  costumes  worn  in  golf 
and  polo. 

315 


MAROON  TALES 


The  dance  was  perfect,  but  for  the  mos 
quitoes.  The  girls  had  a  cotillion,  and  Forres 
and  Norton,  who  stopped  at  Hitchcock  on  his 
way  to  the  Rho  house,  had  great  fun  tearing 
painted  silk  favors  into  queer  shapes.  Later, 
they  finished  their  pitch  series  and  talked 
through  smoke. 

"Isabelle  Blythe  was  much  interested  in  your 
degree, ' '  volunteered  Norry,  raking  in  his  game. 

"You  might  leave  me  out  of  your  talk." 

"We  did,"  smiled  Norry.  "We  hardly 
mentioned  you  all  evening." 

"Don't  say  we,  Norry.  You  're  too  previous. 
It  strikes  me  that  Miss  Blythe  is  rather  fonc 
of  me." 

"Exactly.  For  I  noticed  that  she  invitee 
me  to  the  dance,  and  I  heard  her  refuse  to  le 
you  fill  up  her  entire  program.  Let  's  not  argu 
about  it,  because  it 's  a  clear  case  of  freeze-ou 
for  you,  Bobby." 

Bob  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  alio  wee 
Norry  to  trump  a  ten-spot. 

"She  talked  a  good  deal  about  brothe 
Tommy,"  Norry  resumed.  "She  thinks  Tomm 
is  0.  K.  Remember  what  a  little  sport  he  use 
to  be?" 


316 


HONORS   IN   DIPLOMACY 

Forrest  wasted  an  unfavorable  adjective  on 
Tommy  Blythe.  "I  wonder  if  lie  's  still  cut- 
ting up,"  he  said.  "You  know  I  'm  re- 
sponsible for  him — promised  bis  father.  Lord, 
the  things  I  told  that  infants  trusting  parent. 
It  makes  me  blush.  I  guaranteed  to  subdue 
him,  protect  him,  nurse  him  and  send  him  forth 
a  perfect  specimen,  morally,  physically,  spirit- 
ually and  a  few  other  ways.  I  have  n't  seen  the 
little  wretch  in  two  months,  excepting  at  a  meal 
or  so.    Must  look  him  up." 

"Your  affection  for  Tommy  is  indeed  touch- 
ing," said  Norry. 

"I  want  him  to  pass  his  studies — that 's  what 
freshmen  are  for.    And  I  promised  his  father. ' ' 

"I  understand  you  are  greatly  stuck  on  his 
father." 

"Well,  I  think  I  stand  in  with  Tommy's  fam- 
ily as  well  as  some  others." 

Norry  smiled  the  smile  of  the  very  wise. 

Bob  inquired,  "Did  she  say  anything  about 
his  studies  ? ' ' 

"Maybe  she  did,  but  I  heard  so  much  airy 
persiflage  that  I  'm  not  sure.  Most  of  the  sen- 
ior fellows  were  having  nightmares  out  on  the 

317 


MAEOON  TALES 

lawn  over  finding  jobs — regular  funeral.  Aboi 
everybody  was  there." 

"  Curtis  wasn't  there." 

"  Curtis  V1 

"The  fellow  across  the  hall.  I  just  hear 
him  come  in  and  slam  his  door.  I  suppose  he  ' 
been  out  somewhere,  working." 

"Speaking  of  work,"  said  Norry,  "I  '11  be 
he's  as  sore  as  a  goat  about  getting  caught  oi 
the  specials.  Those  grave-digger  fellows  gen 
erally  are." 

"No,  I  think  you  are  wrong,"  Bob  ventured 
"You  can't  be  a  captain  of  industry  and  th( 
leading  deacon  of  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  at  on< 
and  the  same  time.    Use  your  head." 

"You  don't  even  know  him,  Bob,  so  cork  up 
Now  you  're  not  sore,  of  course.  You  're  jus 
amused.  You  know  you  always  made  fun  o 
diplomas  and  grinds." 

"Wrong  again.  I  simply  said  I  could  no 
see  the  light  that  lies  in  a  professor's  eyes 
Also,  that  a  degree  was  merely  a  question  o 
being  on  the  job.  For  instance,  if  you  hac 
been  tending  to  business,  you'd  have  caught  my 
jack  with  that  ace  you  're  holding  back.  You 
are  a  rotten  fortune  teller,  Norry.    Never  shal 

318 


HONORS   IN   DIPLOMACY 

it  be  said  that  I  objected  to  being  stuffed  with 
knowledge/ ' 

"Not  if  you  saw  plenty  of  oysters  in  the  stuf- 
fing.'J 

" Don't  mix  figures,' '  Bob  retorted.  "I  'm 
no  dead  turkey,  and  if  I  were,  I  *d  be  blind.  If 
you  think  my  credits  were  all  pearl-bearing, 
I  '11  let  you  take  a  peek  at  my  course-book.' ■ 

He  rummaged  numerous  drawers  and  boxes, 
finally  discovering  the  course-book  in  a  pile  of 
discarded  magazines.  Sprawled  on  the  floor,  he 
regarded  the  contents  with  puzzled  frowns, 
while  Norry,  who  lay  on  the  cot,  awaited  his 
comment. 

"This  one,"  he  began,  punctuating  each 
entry  with  a  dig  of  his  paper-knife,  "was  about 
how  you  ought  to  live  in  a  community  apart- 
ment and  buy  cream-puffs  and  canned  beans  at 
a  community  kitchen  so  that  the  cook  would 
have  time  to  study  the  contemporary  French 
composers.  Clever  scheme,  only  you  *d  have  to 
live  in  a  flat,  which  is  impossible.  Here  's  Eng- 
lish—  Beowulf,  Ecgtheow's  bairn  —  reminded 
me  of  an  intoxicated  buzz-saw.  I  remember  the 
'prof*  asked  Ted  Lamed  who  was  the  greatest 
American  poet,  and  he  said:  'Why,  I  don't 

319 


MABOON  TALES 

know.  I  Ve  never  had  this  course  before. '  H< 
almost  got  canned  for  it.  I  took  this  Germai 
3  to  make  up  for  deficient  Physics  in  prep 
school.  Hello,  here  's  old  Debater  Socrates 
Republic— or  is  it  Plato's!" 

"It's  immaterial,"  murmured  Norry.  "Don' 
stop  to  split  hairs." 

"Ethics,  now,  was  the  best  course  I  ever  had 
Stella  Andrews  and  I  used  to  play  foolish-puz 
zle  all  hour.  Poly  Con  1 — that  was  the  differ 
ence  between  an  entrepreneur  and  something 
else — probably  a  farmer.  I  dropped  out  of  this 
one  because  the  'prof  said  we  couldn't  blufl 
him  on  references  and  quotation  marks.  He 
was  a  humorist,  as  it  turned  out.  He  asked  mi 
the  first  day  where  the  Aleutian  Islands  were. 
I  thought  he  said  highlands,  and  bet  on  Scot- 
land.   I  lost." 

"Why  don't  you  get  up  some  light  lessons 
for  flat  thinkers?"  suggested  Norton.  "Your 
method  would  be  original." 

"That  reminds  me  of  the  course  Grace  Camp- 
bell took,"  laughed  Forrest.    "The  girls  had  to 
go  on  a  fake  shopping  tour,  and  Grace  orderec 
seven  double  sirloins  for  a  family  of  six,  so  tha 
there  would  be  one  extra  for  the  baby— she  said 


HONORS   IN   DIPLOMACY 

babies  were  always  so  hungry.  Here  were  some 
good  ones  last  year.  I  could  always  count  on 
two  solid  hours  of  sleep  after  a  busy  night. 
Which  brings  me  to  my  present  difficulties.  My 
eight-thirty  is  the  price  of  buttons  in  New 
Zealand,  and  the  two  o'clock  is  mostly  defective 
children.  I  hate  defective  children.  If  I  ever 
catch  one  of  'em " 

"Let  me  take  twenty  dollars,  Bob,"  ex- 
claimed Norry. 

"Really  need  it,  or  do  you  want  to  squander 
it  on  airships  and  peanuts  V9 

"I  need  it — haven't  tasted  real  food  for  a 
week — but  I  'm  too  proud  to  beg.  I  mean  the 
twenty  you  were  foolish  enough  to  bet  me. 
After  listening  to  your  recent  discourse,  I  think 
we  might  as  well  cash  in  right  now.,, 

"You  're  making  the  mistake  of  your  young 
life."  Forrest  tossed  aside  the  course-book  and 
stood  against  the  wall,  hands  deep  in  pockets. 
"Norry,  I  believe  you  honestly  think  I  'm  an 
infernal  blooming  idiot,"  he  said. 

"Let  's  not  go  into  that,"  smiled  Norton. 
"You  would  be  sure  to  get  angry.  But  don't 
you  care.    You  '11  be  more  of  a  social  lion  than 

321 


MAEOON  TALES 


ever.  It  's  getting  to  be  quite  the  thing — to  b< 
dropped." 

"  Dropped!" 

That  was  all  Forrest  said.  He  began  peel 
ing  off  his  clothes,  whistling  softly. 

Much  wisdom  moved  Norton  to  silence.  H< 
arose,  cleared  the  table  by  the  window — ther< 
were  some  girls*  photographs,  one  of  Miss  Isa 
belle  Blythe — and  constructed  upon  it,  of  book.1 
and  bric-a-brac,  a  tottering  shrine,  on  the  toj 
of  which  he  propped  two  uncut  volumes,  flankec 
by  a  paper-knife  and  a  huge  pair  of  field 
glasses. 

Forrest's  "good  night"  was  civil. 

Norry  glanced  back  at  Hitchcock  as  he  struc 
across    the    campus.     A    green-shaded    lamp 
glowed  in  Curtis 's  room.   Behind  the  swaying 
net  curtains  of  Forrest's  windows  a  liveliei 
scene  was  depicted :  A  partially  disrobed  youth 
outlined  in  statuesque  defiance;  suddenly  a  fly 
ing  shower  of  books  and  papers ;  a  head  thrus 
out  for  an  instant;  then  the  swift  descent  o 
the  blinds. 


322 


HONORS   IN   DIPLOMACY 


II 

Curtis  had  dissatisfied  black  hair  and  earnest 
cheek-bones  and  a  forehead  that  looked  as  if  it 
could  turn  out  A's  in  every  course.  Perhaps 
it  could,  given  the  time,  for,  unlike  Forrest, 
Curtis  had  done  a  few  things  thoroughly.  He 
knew  as  much  about  business  as  Bob  knew  about 
polo  ponies.  They  seemed  certain  to  learn 
from  each  other. 

Forrest  decided  at  once  that  he  must  assume 
the  leadership — that  was  one  of  his  habits. 
After  he  had  won  his  Tuesday  golf  match — 
that  was  another  habit,  winning  things — he  per- 
suaded himself  that  the  cramming  would  be 
more  successful  if  prepared  for  in  an  artistic 
manner.  As  he  was  passing  a  theater  when 
he  reached  this  conclusion,  he  promptly  bought 
box  seats  for  " Silly  Milly"  and  telephoned 
Curtis,  who  came  protestingly,  on  Bob's  prom- 
ise to  begin  work  after  the  show.  The  enter- 
tainment proved  so  saddening  that  Forrest  felt 
obliged  to  buy  a  highly-illuminated  supper, 
which  included  jack-snipe  and  an  enormous 
rabbit.     He  then  ordered  a  package  of  sand- 

323 


MAEOON  TALES 

wiches,  and  called  a  cab,  not  only  because  t 
sandwiches  made  it  necessary,  but  that  the  ride 
to  the  campus  might  induce  the  correct  sta 
of  mind  for  the  midnight  study  period. 

As  sometimes  happens,  these  two  seniors  b 
gan  to  wonder  why  they  had  held  such  queei 
opinions  of  each  other.  Forrest  displayed 
great  interest  in  Curtis 's  work,  and  asked  hiir 
what  position  he  was  filling.  He  had  an  im 
mense  admiration  for  people  who  could  "hole 
down  jobs." 

"I  have  not  bought  out  any  one  concern, ' 
said  Curtis.  "This  quarter,  I  am  a  publi 
typewriter,  a  solicitor  of  advertisements  and  c 
contributor  to  a  lumber  journal — I  used  to  spli 
kindling  when  I  was  a  child." 

"Then  you  're  a  self-made  man,"  cried  Bob 
"I  've  heard  it  was  a  very  fine  thing.     Yo 
ought  to  be  all  puffed  up  about  it." 

"It 's  nothing  to  crow  over  in  my  case,' 
said  Curtis.  "That 's  mostly  what  got  m 
hung  up  in  my  studies." 

Forrest  dismissed  the  argument  with  a  wav 
of  his  glove. 

"Blow  anyhow.  Now  there  was  my  great 
grandfather.  He  made  himself.  Father  spring 


324 


HONOES   IN   DIPLOMACY 

him  on  me  every  Sunday  afternoon  at  two 
o'clock  when  I  'm  home.  Great-grandfather 
used  to  walk  sixty-three  miles  to  school  every 
morning  and  back  again  for  luncheon  and  din- 
ner. It  was  bitter  cold  the  year  round,  and  he 
had  only  a  few  shoes  and  scarcely  any  fur  over- 
coats— father  's  especially  proud  of  that.  I  tell 
him  he  probably  had  a  brougham  waiting  be- 
hind the  barn.  The  old  boy  kept  a  diary,  too — 
sounds  like  Caesar  overcoming  the  Helvetians 
at  one  fell  slap.  He  died  in  his  prime,  great- 
grandfather did. 

"But  you  needn't  feel  too  chesty,"  he 
cautioned  Curtis,  after  advising  the  cabby  not 
to  overheat  his  " thoroughbred.' '  "You  can't  be 
anything  big  nowadays  unless  you  've  been  a 
poor  little  newsboy  or  a  starving  bootblack  on 
Christmas  Eve.  Think  of  it !  Here  we  are,  being 
ruined  in  college,  when  we  might  be  improving 
our  time.  "We  might  even  be  chimney-sweeps. 
I  consider  that  one  of  the  greatest  questions 
now  confronting  the  American  people." 

Curtis  attempted,  without  success,  to  intro- 
duce the  subject  of  Political  Economy.  Forrest 
was  too  much  concerned  with  the  problems  of 
the  nation.     While  Curtis  was  preparing  his 

325 


MAEOON  TALES 


I  sound 


room  for  the  cramming,  his  guest  fell 
asleep  in  his  chair,  an  unopened  book  in  his 
lap.    He  had  tried  to  be  decent. 

Curtis  slipped  a  note  under  Forrest's  door 
in  the  morning,  calling  attention  to  a  confer- 
ence at  the  Keynolds  Club.  Bob  overslept,  and 
reached  the  Club  in  time  to  lunch  at  the  Com- 
mons, where  he  met  some  friends.  He  left  word 
that  he  had  been  kidnaped  and  carried  to  an 
honor  society  banquet.  By  midnight,  when 
Curtis  had  finished  his  review,  he  had  not  re- 
turned. 

Next  morning  he  explained : 

"I  'm  mighty  sorry.  Lost  my  books,  too 
had  all  the  fellows  looking  for  them,  but  we 
couldn't  find  them.  That's  funny,  because 
one  was  a  red  book  and  the  other  was  green.  I 
dropped  a  whole  day,  didn't  I?" 

"I  'm  going  to  give  you  an  old  list  of  ex- 
amination questions  to  see  if  you  know  any- 
thing whatever  about  Poly  Con,"  Curtis 
announced.  * '  Take  this  and  go  somewhere  and 
get  busy." 

The  answers  were  ready  at  noon.  Most  of 
them  were  meaningless ;  the  rest  were  amusing. 

" Don't  judge  me  too  harshly,"  said  Forrest. 


HONOES   IN   DIPLOMACY 

"I  went  to  the  Club  and  was  just  beginning  to 
get  some  sense  out  of  my  notes  when  one  of 
those  college  quartets  came  in  and  sang  *  Sweet 
Evening  Star.'  Did  you  ever  hear  *  Sweet 
Evening  Star*  as  a  quartet?  I  threw  chairs  at 
them,  but  they  kept  right  on  and  when  they 
started  the  *  Hand-organ  Sextet,'  I  had  to  run 
for  Cobb.  But  that  was  worse,  on  account  of 
one  of  those  poor,  howling  unfortunates  who 
study  Public  Speaking  aloud.  Awfully  sad 
case — perfectly  hopeless.  And  one  of  the  ques- 
tions was  about  defective  children.  I  believe 
they  just  do  it  to  arouse  sympathy.  I  'd  like 
to " 

"The  trouble  with  you,"  said  Curtis,  angrily, 
"is  that  your  parents  like  you  too  much. 
You  're  not  going  to  be  handed  your  diploma  on 
a  silver  tray.  If  you  care  for  my  candid  opin- 
ion, I  '11  say  this  much.  I  think,  after  the  chance 
you  had — and  after  the  big  talk  you  put  up — 
that  it  will  be  a  dirty  disgrace  if  you  get  kicked 
out  of  the  class.' ' 

Forrest  selected  a  topaz  pin.  "You  ought  to 
go  on  the  stage,  Curtis,"  he  said.  "I  believe 
you  have  temperament."  And  he  swung  out 
of  the  room. 

327 


MAROON  TALES 

Curtis  called  Norton  in  consultation. 

"I  don't  know  much  about  this  bet  you  have 
with  Forrest,  but  I  think  you  've  won  it,  Nor- 
ton,' '  he  said.  "He  seems  to  have  passed  it  up. 
I  thought  I  should  tell  you  about  the  arrange- 
ment we  made,  because  you  know  him  so  well. 
I  don't  see  why  he  ever  came  to  me  in  the  first 
place." 

"That,"  said  Norry,  "is  one  of  the  things 
that  we  can  never  know.  And  as  far  as  that 
bet  is  concerned,  I  don't  want  to  win — never 
did.  You  may  think  it  was  a  queer  thing  to 
do,  but  I  put  up  that  twenty  for  the  sole  and 
only  purpose  of  trying  to  get  him  to  work.  I 
thought  he  would  go  after  the  degree  just  to 
fool  me.  He  does  things  like  that.  I  wonder 
that  you  took  the  trouble  to  help  him." 

"I  want  to  finish  the  job,  now  I  've  started 
it,"  Curtis  returned  simply.  "He  is  making  a 
miserable  farce  of  it,  but  I  'm  still  hoping.  The 
explanation  is — I  like  him,  Norton." 

"Yes,  that 's  what  they  all  say.    People  lik 
him,  so  they  smooth  away  all  the  rough  places. 
Somebody  will  insist  upon  expiring  in  his  plac 
when  his  time  comes  to  croak." 

"Probably  you're  right.     He  has   lots  o 

328 


HONORS   IN  DIPLOMACY 

friends.  There  was  a  fellow  up  here  only  ten 
minutes  ago  looking  for  him — by  the  way,  he 
asked  for  you,  too.  He  said  his  name  was 
Ely  the." 

A l  Tommy  Bly the !  * 9  exclaimed  Nor ry .  ' l  Don 't 
laugh,  but  Bob  Forrest  is  that  young  person's 
confidential  adviser.  He  'd  do  anything  for 
him.     I  believe  he  M   even   study  for  him." 

Norry  jumped  up  suddenly.  "I — I  Ve  got 
an  idea,"  he  cried. 

"Did  it  bite  you?" 

"We  '11  make  a  tutor  of  Bob.  He  must  save 
Tommy  Bly  the  from  the  wrath  of  the  '  profs'." 

"Do  you  call  that  an  idea?  It  sounds  more 
like  a  brain-gurgle." 

"Listen,  Curtis,  and  hold  me  if  I  get  dan- 
gerous. We  have  now  discovered  that  moral 
suasion,  refined  cruelty  and  kindness  are  power- 
less. We  must  therefore  finesse.  I  'm  a  head 
professor  of  finessing.  Bob  Forrest  thinks  he  's 
the  only  salvation  of  that  freshman.  He  's  hav- 
ing remorse  right  now.  We  must  make  him 
think  that  the  Grand  Order  of  Flunkers  is  about 
to  be  conferred  upon  Tommy.  We  '11  give  him 
the  proper  books,  and  he  '11  study  an  arm  off — 

329 


MAEOON    TALES 

for    Tommy.    Only,   he   might   recognize   the 
books." 

"He  will  not.  He  doesn't  even  know  their 
titles.    But  Tommy  might  put  him  wise." 

"We  '11  bind  and  gag  Tommy,  if  necessary," 
and  Norry  looked  as  though  he  would  enjoy  the 
operation.  "I  '11  do  picket  duty." 

i '  It  may  work, ' '  Curtis  admitted ; '  <  and  again, 
it  may  not.  He  has  all  night  before  him — the 
'exams'  come  tomorrow.  You  give  him  these 
books — he  thinks  he  lost  them  last  night.  They 
tell  the  whole  thing,  and  if  he  just  reads  them, 
he  is  bound  to  get  through  the  i exams.'  He  has 
the  head,  if  he  applies  himself.  Now  let 's 
adjourn  to  his  room  and  wait  for  him." 

"I  have  a  little  the  advantage  of  him  on 
certain  proposition  that  may  help  some,"  con- 
fessed Norry.  "I  'm  in  dead  right  myself,  and 
I  can  use  it  to  stir  up  his  blood — he  thinks  he 
has  a  chance." 

Norry  grinned  broadly  and  passed  a  hand 
over  one  of  his  coat  pockets.  The  pocket  con- 
tained a  small  photograph  of  Miss  Isabelle 
Blythe.    He  explained: 

"Oh,  it 's  just  a  personal  matter.    You  might 

330 


HONORS   IN   DIPLOMACY 

call  it  a — a  rivalry.  But  here  he  comes  now,  as 
the  actorino  said." 

The  scheme  worked  smoothly.  Norry  was 
not  even  forced  to  lie  as  much  as  he  had  ex- 
pected. 

"That  blamed  freshman  is  going  to  flunk — 
I  know  he  is,"  growled  Forrest.  "I  Ve  been 
waiting  for  it.  That  's  why  he  was  looking  for 
me.    I  'm  going  to  tutor  him." 

"But  you  need  the  time  for  your  own 
studies,"  objected  Norton. 

"It 's  suicidal,"  Curtis  groaned. 

"Hang  my  own  studies."  Forrest  was  pac- 
ing the  floor.  "Hang  Tommy,  too.  He  hasn't 
any  sense  of  responsibility.  I  '11  call  him  up 
now." 

"Oh,  no,  don't  do  that!"  Curtis  said  hastily. 
<<I  wm » 

"I  was  just  starting  for  the  Zeta  house  to  see 
a  fellow  over  there,"  Norry  broke  in.  "I  '11  get 
Tommy  and  bring  him  here." 

Bob  still  walked  the  floor.  Norry  returned 
with  two  books.  Tommy  was  out,  but  had  left 
his  books,  said  the  scout. 

"Give  me  the  books,"  thundered  Forrest, 
with  an  inflection  that  would  have  put  Lady 

331 


MAEOON  TALES 

Macbeth  and  the  daggers  to  shame,  as  Curti 
said  afterward.  "The  little  shrimp  hasn' 
even  cut  the  pages.' ' 

Norry  winked.  He  was  about  to  play  hi 
trump  card.    He  said: 

"I — er — I  saw  Isabelle  Blythe.  She  hope: 
Tommy  will  pass  his  courses.  She  hopes  yoi 
will,  too." 

"She  does?"  muttered  Bob.  Then,  "Yoi 
two  get  out  of  here."  He  ushered  his  friends 
to  the  door  and  closed  it  upon  their  eloquent 
backs. 

"Curtis,"  yawned  Norton,  as  he  tumbled  into 
the  big  chair,  "it  's  developing  beautifully 
Tommy  was  really  looking  for  me  when  he 
came  up  here — one  of  the  Zeta  fellows  told  me 
while  I  was  supposed  to  be  going  after  the 
books.  Tommy's  sister  is  giving  a  dinner  to 
morrow  for  some  of  the  graduating  class  an( 
Tommy  's  on  my  trail  with  an  invitation.  I'm 
glad  I  'm  going  to  graduate,  because  nobody 
else  qualifies.  Wonder  how  old  Bob  would  fe 
if  he  knew." 

The  letter-slot  in  Forrest's  door  did  valian 
service  that  evening.  Curtis  and  Norton  too 
turns  squinting.    Three  minutes  after  the  sta 

332 


HONORS   IN   DIPLOMACY 

Forrest  was  seen  to  throw  both  books  violently 
into  the  far  corner.  There  was  a  period  of 
suspense  while  he  strolled  about  the  room.  He 
stopped  once  to  examine  some  photographs. 
Then  he  recovered  the  books  and  began  to  snip 
the  pages  industriously.  Frequent  views  showed 
him  wading  slowly  through  the  green  book 
and  a  box  of  stale-looking  sandwiches,  his  posi- 
tion ranging  from  bolt  upright  in  his  chair  to 
prone  on  the  floor,  half  smothered  in  cushions. 
When  Norton  left  at  midnight,  he  reported  that 
the  patient  was  perspiring  freely,  breathing 
heavily,  and  just  beginning  the  red  book  and  a 
bag  of  apples.  At  two  o'clock  he  was  smoking 
a  pipe  and  writing  feverishly,  a  towel  around 
his  head.  "When  Curtis  rose  at  seven,  Bob  was 
reviewing  both  books  and  using  profane  lan- 
guage. 

Curtis  breakfasted  alone.  He  next  saw  For- 
rest in  the  examination  room,  scribbling  stead- 
ily and  laboriously.  It  was  the  same  at  the 
afternoon  special.  Curtis  hurried  to  the  Gym. 
for  a  plunge  when  he  had  correctly  answered 
the  last  question.  He  found  Norry  practising 
fancy  diving.  Forrest  came  soon.  They  fin- 
ished the  swim  without  talking,  dressed,  and 

333 


MAEOON  TALES 


strolled  to  the  "C"  Bench.  It  seemed  the  mosl 
appropriate  place  to  go. 

Forrest  broke  the  silence. 

"Well,  I  did  it.  I  passed  both  i exams.'  I 
asked  the  *  profs.'  Yes,  that 's  straight,  f  el- 
lows.'  ' 

Norton  pulled  a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece  from 
his  pocket  and  handed  it  to  the  winner.  "I 
guess  you  earned  it,"  he  said  briefly. 

"Thanks,"  laughed  Forrest,  flipping  the  coin 
in  his  hand;  "I  'd  completely  forgotten  the 
bet.  And  before  you  ask  me,  I  '11  say  that 
I  saw  through  your  little  scheme,  and  I 
greatly  admire  your  nerve.  I  saw  it  in  two 
minutes.  ■ ' 

"That  must  have  been  when  you  threw  the 
books,"  said  Norry,  brightening. 

"Then  why  on  earth  did  you  keep  on  study- 
ing ? ' '  demanded  Curtis. 

"Ask  Norry.  If  he  thinks  hard,  he  may  guess 
why  I  did  it." 

But  Norry  was  gazing  down  the  walk  toward 
the  Women's  Halls.  Forrest  also  looked.  It 
was  Isabelle  Blythe;  and  stubby  little  Tommy 
Blythe  was  with  her,  attempting  to  be  digni- 
fied while  holding  a  white  parasol  over  his 

334 


HONORS   IN   DIPLOMACY 

sister's  big  white  hat.     Norton  and  Forrest 
went  to  meet  them  in  front  of  Haskell. 

"How  did  the  specials  come  out,  Mr.  For- 
rest ?"  eagerly  inquired  Miss  Blythe. 

"Fine.    Killed  'em  both." 

"I  'm  so  glad,"  smiled  Miss  Blythe.  "I  was 
dreadfully  anxious  about  it." 

"I  knew  you  were,"  and  Forrest  gave  Norry 
an  enlightening  glance.  "So  I — I  mean,  I 
studied  quite  hard." 

"Yes,  he  studied  quite  some  hard,"  put  in 
Norry. 

"I  think  it  's  just  lovely,"  said  Miss  Blythe. 
"Now  you,"  addressing  the  hopeful  Norry, 
"were  certain  to  get  your  degree,  and  so  was 
I.  But  you,"  and  she  smiled  radiantly  upon 
Forrest — "you  are  a  hero.  You  did  something 
really  interesting." 

Norry  wondered  then  why  he  had  never  be- 
fore felt  such  an  aversion  for  Forrest's  hand- 
some features.  Bob's  smile  reminded  him  of 
a  hyena.    And  he  bided  his  time. 

"Everybody's  getting  to  be  so  terribly  wise, 
said    Miss    Blythe.      "Even    Tommy    got    all 
B's  last  quarter.     He  's  going  out  for  hon- 


335 


>> 


MAEOON  TALES 


"I  knew,"  lied  Forrest,  "that  he  was  very 
brilliant. ' ' 

"Aw,  say,"  remonstrated  Tommy,  cutting 
circles  on  the  sidewalk  with  the  toe  of  an 
elaborately  buckled  shoe. 

"I  hear  you  stopped  at  my  room,  Tommy," 
Bob  hinted. 

"Yes."  Tommy  hesitated  and  looked  at  his 
sister.  "Isabelle's  giving  one  of  those  new- 
thought  dinners  tonight.  The  game  is,  to  guess 
what  you  're  eating.  That  is,  if  yon  do  manage 
to  eat — I  can't.    I  was  going  to  ask " 

"Tommy  refused  to  attend,  and  was  looking 
for  a  substitute,"  interrupted  Miss  Blythe. 
And  Norry 's  confident  grin  froze  on  his  face 
when  she  added : 

"I  think  you  deserve  the  reward,  Mr.  For- 
rest. You  've  worked  so  hard  for  your  degree. 
The  dinner  's  to  be  very  informal,  so  you  ma} 
come  right  along  with  me." 

Without  further  ceremony,  Tommy  surren- 
dered the  parasol  to  Forrest  and  made  o 
across  the  campus  as  if  fearing  more  changes 
in  his  sister's  queer  dinner  plans. 

"Good-by,  Norry,"  sang  Bob.  "Good-by, 
Curtis.     Keep  cheerful,  Norry." 

336 


HONORS   IN   DIPLOMACY 

They  walked  on,  Bob  Forrest  and  Isabelle 
Blythe. 

Norry  went  slowly  back*to  the  "C"  Bench, 
and  sat  down  beside  Curtis. 

"Curtis,"  he  said,  "I  'm  getting  altogether 
too  generous.  I  need  a  long,  long  rest,  or  a  sea 
voyage  or  something." 

"I  begin  to  see  why  he  studied  all  night,"  ob- 
served Curtis,  ponderously.  "He  's  interested 
in  Tommy  Blythe  \s  relatives.  It  looks  like  a 
family  affair.' ' 

"So  does  my  twenty,"  sighed  Norry,  gazing 
after  the  white  parasol,  just  disappearing  be- 
hind the  trees.  "I  had  hoped  that  he  'd  spend 
it  on  a  steak.  But  he  won't.  He  '11  buy  roses- 
pink  ones.  She  's  very  fond  of  them— big  pink 
roses — with  long  stems." 


337 


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